


Looks That Kill

by devilshouted



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: 100 reasons not to steal your producers boyfriend, A guide by Nikki, Absolutely no timeline, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Human Disaster Nikki Sixx, Infidelity, I’m awful at timelines, M/M, POV First Person, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-09-25 08:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 61,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilshouted/pseuds/devilshouted
Summary: "Bottom line is don't ever leave your girlfriend alone with Mötley Crüe, ever. Because they'll f--- her."Turns out, you can't leave your boyfriend alone with them either.✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧In a world where Nikki Sixx formed Motley Crue by himself and Tommy Lee is an aspiring drummer in a dead-end, exceptionally boring relationship with Tom Zutaut, the course of true love never did run smooth - especially for rockstars that can't keep their hands to themselves.ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ꜰᴏʀ: Drugs, Sexual Content, InfidelityINDEFINITE HIATUS.





	1. I-Long Legs and Burgundy Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Before I actually let y'all get on with the story I just wanted to break a few things down in an attempt to clear some things up because I'm a fool who doesn't know timelines. Also, English isn't my first language, so if there are any super horrific errors please let me know! I promise I won't be upset :)
> 
> Some background info on the AU:  
1.Tommy never went to see London so he never got to speak to Nikki and Nikki started Motley Crue by himself. He met Mick through the paper and the two of them ran into Vince at a party in L.A., their drummer at this point is a random and wholly unimportant OC I made up named Colson.  
2.Yes, Tommy is dating Zutaut, and the two are a fucking disaster together.  
3.Tommy is practically (definitely) a sugar baby. Tom keeps him in as much comfort as he can with his producing job and Tommy stays in his apartment rent free, spends his money, and sucks his dick.  
4.There's no timeline to this in the sense that most of the chapters aren't truly related. It's more of a collection of drabbles based in the AU than it is a narrative story. Maybe one day I'll collect my scattered ass brain and compose a cohesive narrative but today is not that day.

* * *

𝔑ikki's 𝔓ov

It wouldn't be fair to say I never listened to anything Zutaut told me - I just didn't give a fuck at the moment.

Now I know what you're thinking- Nikki, you ungrateful asshole, isn't this the guy that offered your shitty little band a record deal? And let me tell you something:

1-My band is not shitty, so fuck you.

2-Yes, yes he is.

And therein lies my dilemma. I can't just _tell_ Zutaut to fuck off, because not only would Mick kill me for talking shit to a producer, it'd just be _rude_.

As if I ever gave a damn about manners but hell, no point in making the little man cry.

So here I am, desperately trying to look interested in whatever the fuck Tom's saying to me as he talks my ear off at this god damn party when I could be doing literally anything else. I see Vince out of the corner of my eye and he's doing what he's normally doing: Hitting on some hapless young thing so taken with his presence that she's willing to look beyond the fact that he's an absolute fucking mess and hop into bed with him for a night.

God I wish that were me.

"-And he was a really big fan of London, Nikki. He absolutely freaked out when I told him I signed Crüe, and I've been promising him I'd introduce the two of you for the longest time so I hope you don't mind."

What? The **fuck** is he talking about now? What did I miss?

"Seriously man, you have no idea how happy he's going to be to finally meet you." Am I just the fucking make a wish foundation now? And just who the hell has he volunteered my time for?

I get my answer when a tall ass ball of teased black hair grabs Zutaut in a side tackle, wrapping their arms around his waist and pressing a smattering of kisses to his cheek as Tom bats at the obviously tipsy figure like he's swatting an exceptionally annoying knat out of his face.

My first thought is: Damn, that's a tall woman. She must be a model.

My second thought is:What the fuck is a model doing with Tom fucking Zutaut?

It isn't until the tall, probable model stops molesting Tom and straightens is that I realize she isn't a she at all.

I hate to sound like a cheesy old paperback romance novel, but goddamn is he _breathtaking_: Pretty hazel eyes that seem to shine under the neon lights, pretty red lips smudged as a result of the assault on poor Tom, pretty- can I say someone has a pretty nose or is that taking it too far? Anyways you get my point, he's pretty.

I blink once I realize I'm staring, trailing my eyes down the strangers body to get a better look at him. There's a lot of random animal print on his leggings and in all honesty it's tacky as hell but I can't bring myself to care because damn the _legs_ on this one.

Yea. I'm sticking with model. People this gorgeous don't have regular jobs.

Pretty boy's smiling at me now, practically vibrating with energy even as Tom wraps an arm around his waist to steady him and I push down a really random wave of sudden, irrational jealousy because something about this picture ain't right and I'm- Ah, shit, he's talking again.

"Nikki, this is Tommy Lee. Tommy, Nikki."

Tommy.Tom and Tommy. The two Mr.Toms.T-Double.

Ok, I never said I was a funny drunk.

Tommy is practically hanging of Zutaut now, and I'm starting to think he's a little more than tipsy,but he twists a lock of black hair around his finger and beams at me like I hung the fucking moon, so I'm starting to wonder if it would really be that fucked up to flirt with Zutaut's..._whatever_ Tommy is to him while he's standing right here.

Survey says it would, but I don't particularly give a fuck.

Instead of flirting, I decide to try and do what respectable adults do when they meet someone new and extend my hand out to the other man. He doesn't react at first, which, bummer, but he does drop this bombshell on me:

"I used to have your poster on my bedroom wall."

So Tommy's brain-to-mouth filter doesn't work very well? Good to know. He looks a bit mortified as soon as he says it but I'm not upset at all by this development: The most beautiful man I'd ever seen had my face on his wall, probably sandwiched between centerfold spreads and everyone from Aerosmith to Kiss.

"He has a Mötley Crüe poster up now." Zutaut interjects, arm still around Tommy, and how the fuck does he know that?

I ignore him, as I so often do, and focus on Tommy. Drunk, beautiful, tall Tommy who between the kiss attack, grabby hands, and bedroom knowledge, I'm starting to think is _fucking_ my producer.

And if that's not the sign of an unfair world, I don't know what is.

"You liked London?" I ask even though it's probably the most obvious thing in the world, and get pretty interested when his eyes get a little sad.

"The night I was going to go see you guys play my girl got sick and I had to take her to the hospital. Unfortunately for me I found out you guys broke up that night too so I missed my shot entirely."

Oh right. I had gotten punched in the face. I'm kind of glad he didn't see that part.

"London was nothing compared to Mötley Crüe." Now I'm not one to toot my own horn but in this case I'm going to have to because I want to see a lot more of Tommy. "You should come to a gig sometime, I could get you backstage too if you wanted."

His eyes light up like I just handed him a million bucks and told him to go wild.

"You're fucking **joking**."

"Not even a little bit."

For a second I think he's going to kiss me, which to be completely honest I would have been _100% fine with_, but he seems to think better of it and settles for flashing me another one of his gorgeous smiles.

I just met this kid and I'm already a fucking clown for him. _Great_.

"I can bring him around for the show next weekend." Zutaut. Why was he here again? And why should I have to wait until next weekend to get Tommy alone when I'm ready, willing, and able to find the nearest room and get better acquainted in the physical sense?

Zutaut's cockblocking doesn't end there, because when he glances at his watch I know I'm about to lose Tommy for the night and again I find myself way more upset about losing the chance to get busy with a random stranger.

"We've gotta get going man. I'm already up past my bedtime." I honestly can't tell if he's joking or not, but Tommy's eye roll tells me he hears this often, and a pout forms on those pretty, pretty lips of his that I kind of want to bite into right now.

"See you around." Tommy says to me with a waggle of his fingers as Zutaut leads him-arm still around waist-to the door, and it's kind of pathetic how sad I am to watch him go.

Well, not sad to watch him go, just sad he's leaving.

...I guess I have to go tell the boys I'm in love.


	2. II-Su-Barbie-A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Tommy and Tom’s life and the rules of the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by unpopular demand...me.
> 
> I’m joking. In all honesty the response to this got me really hyped so I wanted to throw this sort of “intermission” chapter in for two reasons: One, to waste time before Tommy and Nikki meet backstage, and Two: I wanted to try my hand at writing this universe’s Tommy. This isn’t quite what I had planned for the day, but I wanted something to tide everyone over for a little while and also shine some light on Tommy and Zutaut.

Tommy’s POV

I always wake up before Zutaut.

Now I know what you’re thinking: “_What_? Consummate slacker and infamous party animal Tommy Lee actually wakes up at a decent time?

First off, 8 in the morning isn’t a decent time.

Second, fuck you. I’m a goddamn adult and I know how to set an alarm.

Anyways, the scene’s always the same- The ear splitting _**bring bring **_of the clock, Tom grunting like a caveman and turning over because he could sleep through a nuclear blast, me pushing him off of my body because I’m sweating like a pig because he insists he can’t sleep when it’s cold and I swear one day I’m going to find a way to jam the air conditioning to this goddamn apartment-

I’m getting distracted.

I take a shower, I do my hair, wash my face, brush my teeth. Maybe not in that order, because sometimes I get distracted with the laundry he’s always leaving around even after I threatened to burn the place down after busting my ass on one of his shirts the 60th time.

Breakfast has been the same thing since I moved in with Tom: Scrambled eggs, toast, milk. I can’t cook, not really, and Tom knew that when he asked me to move in with him, but the fact that his trophy boyfriend is slaving over a hot stove every morning to make sure he gets a homemade breakfast before he heads off to work means he’ll smile at me and tell me how much he loves me.

See, I have Tom figured out, I’ve had him figured out since I met him. Tom may be a producer offering record contracts to big bands but he gets next to _no_ respect from his coworkers.

That comes with the territory of being a complete and utter doormat sometimes.

He wants to feel important, he wants a heightened sense of responsibility, he wants someone to look to him for guidance, he wants to be the big, strong man that swoops in to save the day and get the girl.

Well, I’m not a girl, but I can play the wide-eyed ingenue if that’s what makes him happy. And isn’t that fucked up? The fact that I’m willing to be a completely different person for him? Well, that’s love I guess, when you care so much about someone’s happiness you’d become their ideal.

Tom wakes up at 9 every morning.

He comes up behind me at the stove and presses a kiss to my cheek.

I make him a plate.

He pretends to enjoy it.

I smile.

Every.**Fucking**.Morning.

“Did you like last night?”

Oh of course Tom, I love when you do things for me without expecting sex in return- oh wait, that _never fucking happens_. Don’t let me be misunderstood, I’m not angry at all. We’ve been at this song and dance for months now and he’s got me in a spin for now. Before you know it I’ll get a leg up on him and we’ll be back right where we started.

I put on my sweetest smile as I take his plate to the sink. “I can’t believe you really introduced me to Nikki Sixx.” And honestly I can’t. I’d thought he’d keep _that_ carrot on its stick forever to keep me in line.

“I can’t believe he’s going to let you backstage.”

Is that a tinge of jealousy I hear? How fucking cute.

Tom’s always been insecure when it comes to me, he seems to think I’ll just ditch him for the first pretty face with big dick I can ride and it’s honestly kind of insulting. Can’t he see how much I care for him?

Sometimes I want to prove him right. But no, Tommy Lee has never been a quitter.

“I had a London poster on my wall, Tom. Not a Mötley Crüe poster. He probably just appreciates that I’ve been a fan for a long time...that and the fact he works for you and probably wants to get in good with his boss.”

I doubt it. Nikki doesn’t strike me as the type to suck up to corporate, but the explanation seems to please Tom and the subject is mercifully dropped. For him anyways, Nikki’s been on my mind since last night: He was just so magnetic, so instantly _captivating_.

A poster couldn’t compare.

Tom’s dressed for work when I’m done daydreaming about one of his clients, and he gives me a kiss before he leaves like I’m some sort of housewife.

Oh wait, that’s _literally_ the role I’m playing. I think I could win an Oscar. Can you imagine my biopic? I think I could pull off playing myself in a heart wrenching story of how a young, plucky youth drops out of high school to meet his favorite musician and join a band.

Only to miss his favorite musicians show due to a sick girlfriend.

And for his band to fail because the lead decided to join the coast guard and the guitarist broke his arm falling off a roof, so said plucky youth decides to make some extra cash as an extra in music videos until he meets a well-to-do producer that tales mercy on his starving,desperate ass and tries and turn him into Suzy Homemaker.

Actually... I can’t see it doing too well.

I wait a while in case Tom has forgotten something and has to come back, but after the ten minute mark the radio is coming on and the mask is coming off.

I don’t _mind_ Tom, as much as I’ve been bitching about him, in fact I fucking adore him, but sometimes I like him most when he’s not around, when I can stop playing the part of his very own Eliza Doolittle and just be _Tommy_ again.

If anyone saw me they’d think I was a complete spaz, dancing to rock in the living room, banging wooden spoons on pots and pans and practically being my own one man band but god damn am I happy. The strange, _smothering_ aura that’s always around me and Zutaut together is gone, and as stupid as it sounds, I feel free.

I’m grinning from ear to ear as Cinderella fades out to Mötley Crüe, and Vince Neil’s voice is blasting through the living room while I wave my arms like a maniac to Live Wire.

I know it can’t last, this throwback to my carefree days that seem so long ago. I know that by 10 tonight Tom will be home and he’ll want the Tommy he’s convinced himself I am back, and I know that like a fool I’ll put the mask back on and play the game with him a while longer.

But for now, I’m going to bask in the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make all the chapter titles Mötley Crüe songs but holy shit does Electra Heart speak to Tommy in this AU. Like, read what the Marina and the Diamonds wiki says about the song Su-Barbie-A and tell me it’s not Tommy and Tom:
> 
> “The Su-Barbie-A archetype is a model female representative of the all-perfect American, loving housewife and the general concept of fake perfection. As a result of her compassionate and dedicated personality, she has set aside her ambitions to life as a housewife.
> 
> The Housewife's seeming idyllic lifestyle soon proved to be highly destructive, dealing with an unsupportive and possessive partner who did not support her aspirations and treated her similarly to an object. Her passive personality enabled a problematic way of living, thwarting both her sense of identity and value, as confirmed in Su-Barbie-A.
> 
> Like the other Archetypes, she embodies a variety of things, including the absence of identity, self-worth and warped ideals. The Housewife is expected to be a flawless, submissive, and dependent woman. When the Housewife allows these standards to consume her, she grows empty and lost.”
> 
> That’s totally what Tommy’s dealing with right now! In fact I feel like I gathered a lot of inspiration for Tommy in marinas songs.
> 
> Wow I’m sure no one has ever said that. Ever. To be honest I’m kind of iffy on how to write Tommy. Do I focus on the mask he’s wearing or do I focus more on what he’s thinking underneath it all? I tried to show that he’s still “him” underneath it all with him being drunk at the party and dancing when Tom leaves but does he sound too bitter or have I lost the essence of his character entirely? I’m going to rewatch the dirt again and try my hand at his POV some more in future chapters.
> 
> Anyways I’m going to stop rambling and let y’all get on with your lives.


	3. III-Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikki plots, Tom sulks, and Tommy finally gets to see his fucking show.

Nikki's POV

I'm a wreck, genuinely speaking. I drink too much, party too hard, and sometimes I don't know my limits. Mick's always on my ass for not taking shit seriously but if there's one thing I do _not_ fuck around about, it's my band.

Mötley Crüe is practically my child, after all, and a good parent can set their personal shit aside for their kid.

So yea, when it comes to the band I can pretend to be a professional for a little while and go out of my way to _not_ fuck up any shows we play. And I'm especially not going to fuck up a show _Tommy_ is coming to see considering I've been thinking about him all week.

And how pathetic is that? Nikki Sixx, literal teenage girl going out of his way to impress his crush.

Wait-_**Crush? **_I think that's a pretty juvenile way to describe the phenomena when you see a person for the first time and instantly want to wrap their legs around your head and wear them like a crown, boyfriend be damned.

And Tommy _does_ have a boyfriend, doesn't he? Or maybe they're just really good friends? Either way, I don't really care because Tom is shooting way out of his league and...and maybe I should try to sound less jealous because mark my words, it's a sign of the end times when Nikki Sixx is _jealous_ of Tom Zutaut, and I'm not trying to bring down the apocalypse before I at least get to make out with Tommy in my dressing room- Hell if we rock hard enough tonight I just might impress him and make that dream a reality.

This really is the most important show I'll ever fucking play.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Tommy's POV

Tom bitched at me about my look the second I walked out of the bathroom.

But he doesn't bitch in your average, everyday fashion where's it's him screeching at you until you submit to his whims just to shut him up, no, that would be far too easy for him- it's much subtler than that, more of a gentle _prod_ than a full on poke:

"Don't you think that's a bit much for a concert?"

He loves to do this shit to me, loves to make little comments and get me off my game:

"Hey Tommy, you know Mrs.Harrington is starting up a cooking class at the community center? It might be something fun for you to do so you're not cooped up in the house all day."

Or

"Hey Tommy, there's no need for you to try and find a job, I get paid enough to do all the heavy lifting around here."

Or

"Hey Tommy, why would you want to go to a party when you could stay home with me? Don't I get you everything you need?"

**Or**

"Hey Tommy, I don't think you need to buy that drum kit, it's pretty expensive for a _hobby_."

The worst part is I don't even think he's doing it on purpose. I feel like he _genuinely_ thinks he's looking out for me by making me feel like a useless piece of garbage all the time.

I don't even look that ridiculous tonight, but apparently my definition of conservative doesn't mesh with Tom's: He's dressed like a substitute teacher and I'm dressed like a member of Quiet Riot.

Maybe the leather is throwing him off. Or the lipstick.

Probably the lipstick. He _hates_ when I wear makeup out, insists it invites too many stares.

"We're going to a rock concert babe." I eye him plainly. Sometimes I can give as good as I get. "Not church."

Thankfully, he doesn't argue, just sighs his trademark _I'm disappointed in you right now and you'll be hearing about it later _sigh and grabs his keys.

Well he can be as huffy as he wants. Tonight I'm going to enjoy myself for once.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nikki's POV

The energy in the room is absolutely _electric_ tonight, even more so than usual. I'd been absolutely _wired_ backstage, and it seems like my manic excitement had spread to the rest of the band. Hell, even Mick has an extra pep in his step I hadn't expected from him.

Vince's voice is blasting around me, the crowd screaming back the lyrics as Coulson bangs out a rhythm on the drums and it's absolutely wild.

But not wild enough for me yet.

My eyes scan the crowd, looking into the seemingly endless wave of fans to find the one man I've been waiting on all week before it strikes me that my producer probably wouldn't be in the crowd and therefore his..._friend_ wouldn't be either.

Tom doesn't come see us often, but when he does he finds himself a spot that's still backstage, but close to the action. That's probably where I'll find Tommy.

I turn my eyes to the left stage wing, blinking the light out of my eye and there he is like an absolute _vision_, mouthing along with Vince as Tom speaks to some suit a little farther behind him.

Tommy looks fine as all hell tonight, and I almost miss a beat staring at him when he finally makes eye contact with me. He smiles wide, teeth glinting in the light before he throws a wink in my direction.

I smile back, feeling absolutely stoked.

Zutaut's done with his conversation now, and he approaches Tommy to lace their fingers together, distracting him enough to make him break our contact.

Well _that's_ a mood killer. I turn back to the stage, Mick sending me an inquisitive look as I shrug and continue to play.

The show must go on. Besides, I'll be seeing Tommy backstage soon anyways.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Tommy's POV

Tom pretty much abandons me after the shows over and people start piling out, throwing me some line about how the random corporate babble he'd been discussing with that dude earlier needed to be _handled right now and he'd find me later._

I'm pretty sure he just doesn't want to deal with the band more than necessary considering the horror stories he's told me about them. Whatever, Nikki invited me backstage so I'm going, with or without him.

Nikki. We'd had a moment earlier before Tom had distracted me. I'd been so caught up in the moment, caught up in how absolutely insane the show was that'd I'd winked at him like a groupie trying to score.

How _embarrassing_. I hope I can spin a line about how the lights or an eyelash or some mascara were in my eyes.

I start regretting not asking Tom for directions after about 10 minutes of aimlessly wandering around and trying to find a dressing room, and when I do I almost bash my head into the wall.

There's a line forming, mostly women, trying to get past a pair of muscle bound guards. They remain expressionless as the fans scream out, and I'm watching my plans go down the drain.

No. Hell no. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times- Tommy Lee isn't a quitter.

I square my shoulders and make my way to the throng, I'm taller than the majority of them so it's easy to squeeze through on intimidation alone. I wonder if dropping Tom's name could get me through the door.

The guard raises a brow at me when I finally get to the door, almost daring me to make a stupid move.

"I uh-Tom Zutaut ringing any bells?"

"Are you him?"

"Well no but-"

He waves my stuttering off, batting away my dreams of seeing Nikki again with it.

"Name?"

"Tommy Lee"

A flash of recognition falls across his face before he schools it back into the stone mask it had been earlier, and he gives me the once over.

"Yea, alright."

He steps aside for me, ignoring the increasingly loud group behind us and I could almost kiss him.

I don't though, because that would be weird. I do however, take a breath as I enter the room.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nikki's POV

I'm starting to think Zutaut loaded Tommy into his car the second the show ended. It wouldn't surprise me in the least. I know _I_ would get my significant other as far away from me as possible if I were him.

Mick and Coulson have disappeared to god knows where, and I’m getting my ear talked off by Vince about...Christ I don’t even remember when the door opens, and the click of the lock startling us both, heads snapping upwards as a rattled looking Tommy stumbles into the room.

God loves me. He really does.

Or maybe Satan, either way.

I can’t stop grinning, and I know I must look like a complete maniac as Vince’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Can I help you?”

Nah. But I certainly can.

I rise from my seat, eager to escape the conversation and have my arm wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders before he can even blink.

“Vince, Tommy. Tommy, Vince.” He looks absolutely starstruck. Over Vince. That’s not going to work for me.

“Well this was a good talk.” I start as soon as I see the blonde opening his mouth. “I’ll catch you later, me and Tommy have some business to discuss.”

Hopefully business involved me getting to cop a feel in a storage room somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy’s made it backstage! And he’s going off alone with Nikki, dear lord. Vince and Tommy didn’t go to school together in this AU so that’s why he didn’t recognize him, but no doubt their relationship will be wild as hell eventually too.
> 
> I don’t plan to do dual-POV chapters often because I feel like it’s easier for me to lose the plot that way, but I felt it was necessary here because this has to do with both of them.
> 
> Next chapter (basically part 2 since I didn’t want to make this one like 7,000 words) will feature them having some “deep” conversation or maybe just flirting, I haven’t decided yet.


	4. IV-In between the sets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy lives every groupies dream and gets backstage.

Tommy's POV

Nikki's pulling me away from Vince and out the back way before I can even speak to the blonde, his arm thrown around my shoulder making an unfamiliar warmth flood my body as his hand slides to the small of my back, leading me further into the belly of the arena and away from the stagehands and roadies clearing up for the night.

I'm not sure where we're going, and for a moment I wonder where Tom is, wonder if he'd be angry with me for going off alone with another man, wonder if he cares what I'm doing at all... Well no, I don’t have to worry about if he cares- I mean, _obviously_ he does since he works as hard as possible to micromanage my every breath.

Way to bum yourself out when the night's been fucking awesome, Lee.

Nikki steers me left again, and we come to a stop in front of a door that he pushes open without preamble, flipping the light switch as he maneuvers around me.

_Oh_. I think, not really sure how to react. _We're in the green room._

It's nothing to write home about in all honesty: a room, a bit cramped, with a few couches, a table in the middle, not something I'd expect an arena to supply for a bunch of rockstars, but then again with Mötley Crüe's reputation they probably didn't want to risk decking the room out with expensive furnishings and coming back to find it looking like hurricane Sixx had ran through it.

Speaking of Nikki, he's sitting on the couch now, pulling off ridiculously tall heels with a look of absolute relief on his face. It's _crazy_ how cool he is, crazy how he carries himself like an absolute god amongst men, not giving a damn what us mere mortals thinks while he lives his life to the fullest: Nikki Sixx can do whatever he wants.

I doesn't have that same luxury, I'm completely at the mercy of others, a piece of clay to be molded and shaped however my _owner_ wants me at that hour.

I squirm at the thought, shifting awkwardly at the door as Nikki focuses on taking off his other boot. I wonder if he remembers he bought me here for..._something_. I had thought he'd invited me backstage to meet the band, not stand and stare at him in the lounge: Not that I was upset to stare at him.

"How'd you like the show?” The question breaks me out of my daydreaming, and when I swipe my hair out of my eyes he's looking at me intensely, hazel eyes sparkling in the light.

His gaze almost makes me uncomfortable, makes me feel like he’s stripping away at my skin to look inside me and read my mind or grip my heart in his hands. There’s something behind that intensity too, curiosity maybe? Or was it...

Nah, that’d be crazy.

“Uh yea, yea I liked it a lot.” That was a god damn understatement. I had _**loved**_ the show. Even though Tom had refused to let me join the rest of the crowd I could feel the excitement in the air and it was an absolute adrenaline rush to be so close to the band. And that _moment_ him and I had shared was going to be something I thought about for a while, but of course I can’t just tell him I think he’s fucking amazing, I have to put my foot in my goddamn mouth like always. “Your drummer was a little off though.”

I’m going to fucking off myself. This is why Tom never lets me talk at any of the boring ass corporate parties he takes me to, I don’t think before I talk and I can never just _shut the fuck up._

I’m _mortified_, and that mortification only grows when Nikki stares blankly at me before bursting into laughter.

_He’s about to beat your ass. _My brain supplies helpfully. The way I see it, I’m closer to the door than he is and he doesn’t have any shoes on. I did fucking _track_ in high school so I’m pretty sure I can outrun him if he-

“Dude I tell him that all the fucking time.”

Oh._**Oh**_. Holy shit I may actually survive the night.

“And Jesus Christ Tommy, come sit the fuck down. I’m not going to bite you.”

It suddenly dawns on me that I’ve been standing by the door like an absolute clown for the past 5 minutes and I start making my way to the couch when he speaks again.

“Unless you ask nicely, that is.”

At my startled look he starts to laugh even harder. “I’m fucking with you Kid, come take a seat.” He pats the space next to him invitingly, and I sink into the couch like a stone in a river, hands on my lap like some kind of school student.

“Talk some more shit about Coulson, that was fucking hilarious.” Ok. This is my element, everyone has their niche and drums are mine.

_Used_ to be mine anyway.

“Don’t get me wrong.” I start, hoping I look and sound as confident as I am on the subject. “I think he’s _fine_, but he’s kind of boring rhythmically and he doesn’t have a lot of consistency. His time is always lacking between beats- so he’ll hit a snare on beat when Mick is playing, then he’ll fuck up, then he’ll be ok again, then he just starts wobbling all over the kit.” I’m on a roll now, hands waving like I’m breaking down the meaning of life itself . “And Jesus, _please_ don’t let him solo anymore, he sounded like a caveman beating rocks with a stick.”

“You play drums?” He actually looks interested in my explanations; That’s a nice change from the usual thinly disguised scorn I get every time I bring the subject up to Tom.

“I used to.”

“Why’d you stop?” Oh, so we’re going on a painful trip down memory lane? Groovy.

“Band split up.

“You couldn’t find another one?”

I pause. What’s with the interrogation?

“Tom thinks it’d be a waste of time. There’s no need for me to join a band when I’ve got shit to do around the house.” I swallow thickly, looking down at my lap. I’m not going to fucking cry in front of him, no way in hell.

Nikki’s frowning at me when I look back up at him: _Great_, now I’ve gone and pissed him off. He tilts his head, teased hair falling over his shoulder as we sit in silence again.

“I wasn’t that into it anyway.” I speak suddenly, just wanting to cut through the stifling silence, but he keeps staring at me, face an absolute blank.

Christ.I can’t tell if he wants to smack me or what. What the hell did I say this time? I can practically hear the gears turning in his head as we sit on the couch, neither of us saying a word.

“If you want to do something.” He starts after a moment, eyes still burrowing fire into mine. “Fucking do it Tommy, Zutaut doesn’t _own_ you.”

Oh but he does. Not that I can just look at Nikki and say “_Thanks for the vote of confidence, but It’s literally Tom’s world and I’m just living in it._” He’d think I was some useless, gold-digging slut like all of Tom’s friends already did.

I force a smile on my face to break the tension. “I don’t know man, maybe I can replace your drummer.” My joke seems to work because he’s smiling again, granted it’s not the boisterous laughter of earlier. I feel so bad thinking he’s so hot but god he is.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer, Baby Boy.” His voice is low now, and I’m wondering where the _fuck_ that nickname came from when I feel his hand come up to cup my cheek.

Oh god. Oh **god**. This isn’t happening, I’m laying in a hospital somewhere in a coma because there’s no way Nikki fucking Sixx is about to kiss me in the green room at a Mötley Crüe concert. He’s about to kiss me and lord help me I want him to do it- I’ve never wanted to be kissed so badly in my whole life.

He’s pulling me closer, and our noses are almost touching when.

_Tommy!_

Someone’s calling my name outside and I recognize the voice. It’s Tom. Tom Zutaut. My fucking **_boyfriend_**.

I bolt off the couch like it’s on fucking fire, eyes _wild_ as I stare first at Nikki, then at the door. Tom’s voice is getting louder as he gets closer and I think I’m about to have an honest to god panic attack. What was I doing? What was I _about_ to do?

Nikki’s gotten up now as well, and he’s approaching me like a cornered animal. “Hey, calm down Baby Boy, it’s fine-“

There he goes again with that nickname. What the hell is he trying to _do_ to me? Why does he look so sincere, as if he actually gives a damn about me? I see what this is now- he just wants to fuck me, that’s the only reason he invited me out tonight. Without even thinking I throw the door open and start legging it down the hall, ignoring his shout of my name as I turn the corner and run directly into Tom.

“Jesus Tommy, I’ve been looking all over for you-“

“Yea. Cool, can we go? Like _now_?”

I know I must look fucking frazzled, eyes wide like I’d just witnessed a murder, and I’m filled with a sudden rush of appreciation for Tom when he snaps his mouth shut and grabs my hand, pulling me the direction he’d come from and out of the arena without question.

I jump him as soon as we get home, pressing his body against the door when he locks it and crushing our lips together like it’s the last time I’ll ever kiss anything. He’s shocked, because why wouldn’t he be? I haven’t initiated sex since the first time we did it, in his car outside a shoot: He’d been shocked then too, like he always is when I take any sort of control.

He’s trying to talk but I don’t want to hear his voice and grab at him through his jeans, swallowing his moans and pulling him towards the bedroom.

Sex with Tom is usually a business transaction: He tell me he wants me and I do my boyfriendly duty on my back or my knees or however else he wants me while I lie back and think of England, and it’s _**always**_ up to me whether I get off or not because he stopped caring a while ago. Tonight though? Oh, _tonight_ I enjoy myself more than I ever have while he’s fucking me. I’m a wild man, moaning and clawing his back. 

Not because of him though. He’s not doing _anything_ for me, which is why I keep my eyes so tightly shut...no need to lose the fantasy. 

It’s a sad state of affairs, I think when he’s grunting in my ear on top of me, that I can only enjoy sex with my boyfriend when I close my eyes and pretend he’s someone else, pretend I’m on my back on that couch in the green room and fantasize about Nikki on top of me and inside me.

But hey, at least I shout the right name when his (Nikki’s) hands push me to orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL THEY FINALLY GOT SOME ONE ON ONE TIME BUT IT DIDN’T GO THE WAY NIKKI HOPED IT WOULD.
> 
> Also I know next to nothing about drums so I 100% bullshitted my way through Tommy’s rant. 
> 
> If you needed any more proof that Marina and The Diamonds songs represent Tommy in this AU then just google the lyrics to Hermit The Frog. It’s basically his life story.
> 
> This chapter was kind of messy ngl.


	5. V-Back to the drawing board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy plays both errand boy and right into Nikki’s hands.

Tommy's POV

Tom is sick. He's been complaining about a cough all week and I've played mother hen and plied him with medicine to shut him up, but I knew he was feeling _really_ shit when he didn't get up for work.

The think about Tom is, no matter how much his colleagues treat him like absolute dirt, he's always excited for work and when he goes, he works _hard_, always pulling overtime or running errands to impress the big bosses.

He doesn't even have that kind of passion for me.

"_Jesus_ Tom."

He looks **awful**, skin soaked in sweat, lips dry and cracked as he lays flat on his back. If it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his chest I'd think he died next to me in his sleep.

"Do I need to call the ambulance or something?" I kneel next to him on our bed, placing the back of my hand over his forehead- he's burning up. Bad.

I consider in a moment of absolute delirium what I would do if he died: Would he leave me the apartment in his will? Does he even _have_ a will? His parents think I'm just a friend so they'd probably start asking questions if he left me all his shit and I am so **_not_** prepared to explain that I’d been a dead man’s sugar baby

Fucking stop it Lee, he has a bad fever, not the goddamn _plague_. He's not going to die.

His eyelids flutter in an effort to open, chest still rising with his shallow breaths and for a moment I'm actually considering calling someone because I am _not_ equip to handle a medical emergency.

His mouth opens with some effort and I lean forward to hear his words.

"_Doc_."

Fucking **_what_**? He's on his deathbed and all he can say is _Doc_? No loving words for his boyfriend? Or even something that makes some fucking sense?

"...The fuck are you talking about?"

"I need to go to the studio and see Doc. We've got business." Tom is a quiet guy by nature, but right now his voice is so weak I'm basically crowding him to hear.

"I don't think now is the right time to be worried about _business_."

He ignores me, as usual, and tries to sit up. Grunting as I push him back onto the bed without any effort at all. Tom pisses me off _most_ times, but I still care about him, and I don't want him trying to go out and end up dying of tuberculosis or yellow fever or whatever he's caught.

"Tell you what." I start, pressing him into the sheets. "How about you tell me what it is you two need to talk about so badly and I'll give him a call?" It's a perfectly reasonable solution, but he still refuses with all the power his sick body can muster up.

"Gotta-gotta give him some paperwork. 'S important." He blinks up at me through crusted eyes, and I see the gears turning in his head.

"No."

"Tommy-"

"**Hell** no."

I am **_not_** going to the studio to drop off those fucking papers. Doc is Mötley Crüe's fucking manager- and even worse, he's at the studio! I know they have to be recording or practicing or something.

I'm not prepared to see Nikki again after what happened. I probably never would be.

"Tommy, _please_, my career is depending on this. I never ask you for anything."

And here we go people- a patented Zutaut guilt trip, guaranteed to make you feel like shit every time.

Well too bad for his sick ass, I'm not falling for it this time.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nikki's POV

I'm in a **_foul_** mood. The aura around me is almost palpable in the room and everyone's been giving me a wide berth since last weekend, even though they can't even begin to comprehend why I'm so fucking upset.

I'll tell you why. Tommy.Fucking.Lee.

I'd _had_ him. I had been _this_ close to finally making a move, _this_ close to tasting those lips of his, _this fucking close_ to finally getting my hands on the body that’d been been staring in my wet dreams since I met him-

And Zutaut had ruined it.

The panic in his eyes had told me all I needed to know: They were together. Tom Zutaut was _dating_ Tommy Lee and nothing was right in the world.

Mick had been the one to find me tearing up the green room, and right now he’s giving me his trademark dead eyed glance as I absolutely tear into poor Coulson.

“-And for fuck’s sake man can you _stop_ banging on the fucking snare like it owes you money? We’re a band, not the fucking mafia.”

I’d almost feel bad about the shocked expression on his face if I wasn’t so absolutely miserable. I _want_ Tommy- And it’s not even about sex anymore.

Well I mean, obviously I still want to absolutely _wreck_ him in the bedroom or wherever else he’d have me, but I digress.

Tommy was a mystery to me: Where did he come from? Why was he with Zutaut? _Who the fuck was he?_

It’s like he’s two different people in the same body.

The Tommy I’d met at the party was the same Tommy that had sat on the couch with me and talked my ear off about the drums, and that Tommy has absolutely _no_ resemblance to the shrinking violet he’d turned into when he told me Zutaut had barred him from music, I’d seen the look on his face: pained, but acceptive, and I didn’t fucking like it. The idea that anyone would purposefully make Tommy upset riled me up in a way that was incredibly concerning considering I’d _just_ met the guy.

But oh did I take my sexual frustration and general confusion out on everyone else.

“How about we take a break and come back when everyone’s calmed down?” Doc. Always the voice of reason, ringleader of this circus of a band. Vince takes off first, the lazy bastard, and Coulson jets out of the recording room like a bat out of hell.

I leave before Mick, absolutely frustrated with how fucking messy my life’s become. I’m just going to leave, I’m going to get in my car and go the fuck home, screw recording today. The damn studios not going anywhere and I’m-

I’m running into someone, a very _lanky_ someone, and papers fly out of their hands and into the air around us as I grab at their waist on reflex to keep them from falling, bringing them up as they fist their hands in my jacket to remain upright.

_No fucking way._

Tommy stares at me in shock as he tries to regain his footing, and jerks out of my grasp like he’s been shocked, going down on his knees to desperately grab at the papers.

“Oh fuck oh fuck _oh fuck_.” He looks beautiful, though it’s probably a poor time to tell him that, what with him looking like he was about to burst into tears as he picked up his paperwork.

_His_ paperwork? Tommy didn’t seem like your run of the mill office worker to me, but I still go down on my knees to help him grab the papers. I skim over one in my hands, Elektra logo burning into my eyes. Nah, Tommy working for Elektra didn’t make sense, but his _boyfriend_ on the other hand-

“_**Fuck!**_” The papers are snatched out of my hand and he’s zooming past me like a rocket, leaving me on me knees in the hallway looking like a damn idiot.

_Go after him you fucking loser._

He’s quick too, long legs are apparently good for walking, and I have to kick it into a power walk to catch up with him.

“I _don’t_ have time to talk to you right now, Sixx, and I never will.” Ouch. I guess he’s still shaken up over what happened in the green room, but I don’t let his harsh words deter me in the least, pushing a door open for him before he can even say a word and following him down the hall.

“Aw c’mon Baby Boy-“

“_Don’t fucking call me that._”He looks dead serious as he whirls around to face me, dark hair bouncing around his face in a way that’s distractingly adorable. I can see behind his anger though- there’s _fear_ there. Of what, I’m not sure, but I _don’t_ want it to be of me.

He huffs out a breath, and I can see that this is something he must practice often: How to appear calm and collected after an outburst.

“Please. I don’t know what you want from me, and I don’t know what you were _trying_ to do last weekend,but I’m really not down to play any more games with you.We got stopped before we could do something we’d both regret, let’s just leave it at that.” He sounds so practiced, like he’s been dreaming up ways to end us before we can even get started.

Well that’s too fucking bad. I’d had a _hint_ of a taste and I was already hooked.

I grip Tommy’s wrist when he turns away, holding steady as he tries to rip out of my grasp. “Ok. No more flirting then, how about we just talk?”

“I don’t have time-“

“Come to lunch with me tomorrow.”

“Are you fucking _serious_-“

“Just as friends, I won’t make a move.” Not yet anyway.

“Will you fucking let me go if I say yes?”

Not in your lifetime. “Yup.”

I can see he’s considering it, can see the ice melting in those pretty eyes of his. “Fine.” God, fuck what I said earlier, my life is awesome. He pulls out of my grip the second I slack. “You can get Tom’s landline from Doc but for fuck’s _sake_ don’t call before 9 in the morning or after 10 at night.”

He’s gone in a flurry of curls before I can even say anything back.

“_Ahem_.” I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the voice, whipping around to see Mick staring with his arms crossed.

“What?” I ask, trying my best to look innocent.

“You do realize we signed a record deal with Zutaut’s company and fucking his boyfriend could _seriously_ fuck that up?”

I can’t help but smile, serious as Mick looked.

“Only if he finds out, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are they going on a date? I think they’re going on a date! 
> 
> And look, I KNOW how cheesy it is to use that quote from the movie but I HAD TO, it just works man, it just works.


	6. VI-Just Friends (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finally accepts his truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m honestly feeling a little sick so I don’t know how that will effect updating tbh. I don’t think I’d consider this one of my “intermission” chapters because it is connected to the wider plot. I had planned for this to be them going to lunch but I decided to split it into two separate POV chapters so it didn’t get too long and I didn’t lose the plot too badly. Nikki’s POV should be out sometime tomorrow but after that I’m taking some medicine and taking a nap because your girl needs a rest.

Tommy's POV

There's fingers in my hair and lips on my neck.

It's like I'm not even in control of my own body anymore as I fist my hands into his jacket, moaning helplessly as the grip in my hair turns _just_ the right side of painful. He wrenches back, my head brushing against the wall as his assault on my neck turns vicious, and I let out a gasp as teeth sink into my sensitive flesh.

His thumb comes up to my mouth as he continues to suck and bite bruises into my skin, absentmindedly tracing my lips as teeth scrape across my skin, and I take it into my mouth with vigor, sucking at the digit with abandon as he groans into my shoulder, thrusting our hips together and sending an electric jolt through both our bodies.

_What am I doing? _I think to myself, _What the **fuck** am I doing?_

“_Fuck_!” An exceptionally vicious bite breaks me out of my reverie, and I can feel hands going for my ass as he abandons my neck to capture my mouth in a heated kiss.

I feel like I’m being _devoured_. His hands are everywhere at once, grabbing my hips, pulling my hair, running down my chest, and his mouth is hot and forceful as he presses me further into the wall, our tongues tangling, eager to explore the new territory. He’s hard, but so am I, and we break the kiss to start stripping each other of our clothing.

I barely have my shirt over my head before he’s kissing me again, pulling me backwards towards the bedroom without breaking our contact once, and I feel like I’m on _fire_ when he pushes me into the bed, crawling on top of me with an absolutely _wild_ look in his eyes.

He slots in between my legs like he belongs there, rocking our hips together again and making me moan out into the darkness of the room as his mouth closes around one of my nipples, hand coming back into play to tweak and pinch the other as I throw my head back on the pillows and _whine_. I don’t understand what’s happening to me, I’ve _never_ been on the receiving end of this kind of unbridled passion and the fact that _he’s_ the one making me feel this way is making my head spin.

“_Nikki_-“ I cry out as he bites down, sharp teeth worrying at the bud in his mouth before he slides up my body to bite at my bottom lip before trailing kisses across my jaw.

“_Tommy_.” He whispers into my ear, Zutaut’s voice coming out of his mouth. “_Get up, I have to go to work_.”

Wait _what? _Oh _**god damn it**_.

I can groggily feel myself being shaken awake by Tom, the bedroom fading away, _Nikki_ fading away as I try to open my eyes.

“I don’t know how we _both_ slept through the alarm but I need you to get up because I’m expecting a package and I don’t want _this one _getting snatched because you didn’t pick it up when I told you.”

Did he _seriously_ wake me up to guilt trip me? Well at least I know he’s gotten over his sickness. I burrow further into the sheets, morning wood dying an absolute _death_ as he continues to rant about his fucking boxes.

“I’m working late tonight.” Per usual. “Try not to set anything on _fire_ while I’m gone.” Fuck off Tom, that was _one_ time.

“K babe.” I say, keeping my voice as neutral as possible, I honestly don’t even have the energy I argue with him this morning. “Love you.”

His eyes soften for a moment, like they always do when I tell him something he wants to hear, and he brings his hand down to ruffle my hair like I’m a fucking 3 year old or a dog and _not_ his boyfriend. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

Jesus I sure fucking hope not. I want some peace today.

He’s out of the room and out of the apartment before it actually hits me: I had a fucking wet dream about Nikki Sixx.

_ I had a fucking wet dream about Nikki Sixx and I was supposed to be going to eat with him today. _

Oh shit, oh fuck, oh **god**.

I’ve met some hot guys dating Tom, some really hot guys, but I have _never_ had any of them sneak their way into my subconscious: When I had fantasized about Nikki while having sex with Tom, that had been a choice, I had _chosen_ to imagine him on top of me. This was totally fucking different and totally fucking concerning, concerning that this man that I barely know is having such an effect on me.

This shit has to stop _**today**_. I have to go to this fucking lunch with Sixx and tell him this can’t go on because I **_cannot _**afford to throw away the best thing I have going right now to be some rockstars slampiece.

Even if I really want to.

Wait, _no_. I _don’t_ want to. I _don’t_ want to fuck Nikki. I want to stay with Tom.

Did that sound convincing? No? Well too damn bad, it’s the truth. I don’t want to fuck Nikki and I want to stay with Tom. I’ll keep thinking it until it sounds good.

_I don’t want to fuck Nikki. I want to stay with Tom. I don’t want to fuck Nikki. I want to stay with Tom. I don’t want to fuck Nikki. I don’t want to fuck Nikki. I want to fuck Nikki-_

“_Fuck_!” I shout out, pressing my face into my pillow to scream. This is it. This is the day Tommy Lee fucking dies. Not of an overdose or some kind of cool stunt, I’m going to die of Sixx-Related Stress. Tom is going to come home to find me dead and wonder what the hell happened.

Oh my god. I want to fuck Nikki. What the hell am I supposed to do? Just look at him across the table wherever we go eat and crawl under the damn thing to suck his cock? Ask him to fuck me on the on the floor in front of the other patrons? Hell with the dream I had we may not even _make_ it to the restaurant, I could just get in his car and-

No. No no no no _**no**_.

It’s not happening. It _**can’t**_.

Ok fine, so _what_ if I want to fuck Nikki? He’s hot, it’s normal to think someone’s hot. Plenty of people think plenty of other people are hot and they don’t have sex. I don’t have to have sex with Nikki. Like he said, we can just be friends.

Just _friends_ that are going to a normal, _friendly_ lunch to talk about the kind of shit _friends_ talk about each other with. There will be no flirting or kissing or _**fucking**_-

Aaaand the phone’s ringing, thanks for interrupting my mental breakdown, whoever you are. I keep the blanket wrapped around me like a toga as I make my way to the living room.

”Zutaut residence.” I’m using _phone voice_, because Tom likes to call the apartment sometimes to check how I answer the phone. He can’t have me _embarrassing_ him if some bigwig calls.

“Just the voice I wanted to hear this morning.” God hates me. He must, because why _else_ would Nikki be calling in the middle of my meltdown. “You said not to call before 9, so I’m calling at 9:45.” Oh, so he’s a comedian now.

“Just wanted to know if we were still on for lunch.”

I should end it right here. Tell him that _under no circumstances _would I be going out for lunch with him, but he had my number now, and I can’t afford to have him calling up the place if, god forbid, Tom picks up the phone, he’d immediately want to know why I was making plans with another man behind his back.

“Yea. I already told you I would go.” Try not to sound so miserable, Lee.

“Awesome, tell me your address and I’ll swing by to pick you up around 11.”

I tell him, turning into stone with every word that comes out of my mouth, and he shoots me a quick bye and hangs up as soon as I do.

Well ok then: I have at least an hour to prepare a break up speech for a man I’m not even dating. I can do this. I’ll be fine...

I’m **_fucked_**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tommy’s finally accepted what we knew already: He’s into Nikki. Will this make anything easier? Probably not.
> 
> I have a tumblr at devil-shouted. I probably won’t post much but if anyone ever wants to come into my DMs and scream about these two I’m down


	7. VII-Just friends (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Nikki head to lunch, among other places, and do friendly friend stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve defeated food poisoning, mainly because I puked up literally everything I’ve ever eaten.
> 
> TMI, I know, but I lived. And so does this fic.

Nikki's POV

The sun is shining and my life is **awesome**.

The dark cloud that's been hanging over my head the whole week is gone, and I almost feel like a new man because of it. I woke up this morning with a pep in my step and a smile on my face I haven't had since I was a fucking kid. I'm sure the guys think I'm having some kind of mood-swing mental episode with how pissed I'd been since the weekend and how happy I am now but I can't even bring myself to care - I'm just too damn pleased with myself.

Why am I so happy? I'll tell you why: Tommy.Fucking._Lee_

I've got him, I've finally fucking _got_ him...well actually I've only _got_ him to agree to come to lunch with me, but that's better than him freaking out and running away every time he sees me. Small victories will lead to bigger ones, and my _ultimate_ victory will be me _finally_ getting him to myself.

He'd sounded weird on the phone, too professional and not _Tommy_ at all, like Zutaut's been using him as a secretary, but I figure how he wants to answer his calls is his business. I've got more important things to worry about. Namely, getting him to at least open up to me a little more.It's too weird and vaguely creepy to say I'm _obsessed_ with Tommy so I won't, but I _definitely_ want to know more about him, want to see behind this weird mask he's been wearing and really get into his head.

But not in like, a creepy way. He wants to be _friends_, right? Well friends know things about each other, and what I really want to know is what he sees in Zutaut: I've seen some weird shit living in L.A, and hell I've _participated_ in that same weird shit, but I just can't wrap my head around someone like _Tommy_, who behind his weird facade is so vibrant and passionate and just fucking _awesome_ to look at being with someone like _Tom_, who's just..._Tom_. I've been a passive aggressive asshole to Tom every time I've seen him since he interrupted me and Tom at the concert, and ain't that a fucked up thing to do? To get mad at a guy for accidentally stopping you from making out with (and hopefully fucking) his boyfriend? He'd come to the label the next day with a pretty vicious hickey sucked into his neck and a smug look on his face, and I'd wanted to punch him in his fucking face because that should have been _my_ hickey...wait, that doesn't even make sense.

I've never claimed to be rational. And it seems like I just _can't_ be when it comes to Tommy. He's been in my head since I saw him for the first time, tipsy and glowing and gorgeous, and my obses-_fascination_ with him has only grown since I've known him. He's beautiful sure, but there's something underneath, something more to him that I can't put my finger on but desperately want to try.

I just need one shot to prove to him that I'm not fucking around, prove to him that we just make sense together in a way him and Zutaut _never_ could. And I hope today will give me that shot.

Well, I've got an about an hour to plan out some epic, Shakespearean level pitch to him about how awesome we could be together, and shit I've only got an hour and I _**can not **_afford to make myself look like an asshole by picking him up late, I'd better just practice on my way to Zutaut's-_Tommy's_ place.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Well of course Zutaut's apartment complex is on the rich asshole side of town: I can't see Tommy living here at _all_. It's just so stuffy and _boring_. Try as he might to blend in amongst the rest of the yuppies that occupy this greywashed concrete hellscape, I can see it in his eyes that Tommy's wild at heart, a wildness that he seems to be suppressing for Tom's sake for one reason or another.

Another reason the two of us make more sense than him and Zutaut: I'd _never_ ask him to be anyone other than himself, _never_ ask him to give up on what made him happy to lounge around the house like a 50s housewife. If I had Tommy I'd be doing everything in my power to make him happy, not _miserable_.

I parallel park my Blackhawk in between a Mercedes and some other kind of foreign sports car and check my watch:10:50. Ten minutes to go. I drum on the steering wheel absentmindedly to pass the time, keeping my eyes on the doors to the complex in case Tommy comes out early and sees me looking like a nervous idiot.

10:55

10:56

11:05

_11:10_

Maybe he's not coming after all. Maybe he decided life in concrete suburbia with Zutaut was _just fine _by him and pursuing a could-be relationship with a rockstar wasn't the best idea. Maybe I misread the situation with Tom and they're just two wildly different people who _actually_ love each other despite those differences, maybe and he didn't panic because he was scared of what could have been between us, he was scared that I almost sabotaged the love of his life. Maybe-

Oh shit never mind, that's him, coming out at 11:23. So punctuality isn't his strong suit. Good to know.

Tommy's definitely worth the wait though because _damn_ does he look fucking _stunning_. Well, he looks fucking stunning every time I see him, but today must be a blessed day for us both because _wow_ are those jeans painted on, and _wow_ is that shirt tight under his jacket. I wonder if he _knows_ how hot he is, if he works hard to get his hair to frame his face like that or if it's just natural, if he was late coming down because he had to do some weird makeup trick to make his lips look _extra_ kissable. 23 minutes isn't bad at all, what the fuck am I complaining about? I would have waited an _hour_ if this was what was waiting for me.

I can see him looking for the car, and I honk to get his attention, watching as his head snaps in my direction. Christ he's _pretty_. I unlock the passengers side door as he approaches, flashing him a smile as he slides into the car.

Have I mentioned his legs before? Because damn.

"Hey." He says, and I can tell his keeping his voice neutral, eyes downturned to avoid looking at me. He seems almost nervous, and the last thing I want is him retreating behind that wall he's been putting up.

Ok enough leering, time to make some friendly conversation and get this show on the road. Time to wine and dine like never before.

"Hey." I answer back. "I didn't know where you wanted to go so I figured I could take you to this diner I used to eat at all the time, it's pretty laid back." Real eloquent, Sixx. He probably thinks you're _really fucking cool _now.

His brow quirks as he finally looks up, and there's the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "A _diner_? Nikki Sixx is taking me to a _diner_? I figured a big rock star like you could rent out whatever flashy hotel you wanted and just use the kitchen staff."

Well fuck. Was that something he actually wanted? Because if he wants a hotel and a private chef, I'll _get_ him a goddamn hotel and a private chef. I bet _Zutaut_ wouldn’t.

Tommy is a merciful god apparently, because he notices my panicked look and decides to end my suffering, smile fading as I stare at him in an attempt to figure out if he's serious or I'm being played. "I'm joking." His voice is quiet, and there's that look again, almost like he expects me to snap at him for teasing me. "I'd be fine with whatever. I'm not picky." Diner it is then. This is fine. We're going to a diner.

Well you may want to start driving first, dickhead, people are trying to pull in.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I hold the door open for him when we get there, because I _can_ be a gentleman sometimes, and he flashes me another one of those pretty little smiles of his as I lead us to a table near the back.

I feel like we're going to need the privacy.

He brushes his hair out of his face when we sit, and I follow the movement to better study the man sitting across from me: The way his eyes glint in the light, the curve of his jaw, how soft his hair looks...how soft his lips look. I'm so busy staring I don't notice the waitress until he kicks me under the table to break my out of my daydreaming and get my attention.

"What can I get you boys?" Dottie looks bored, not that I can blame her, but I flash her a smile either way. "Could you get me a jack and coke?" I wasn't hungry, I'd already eaten breakfast that morning. The point of this whole thing wasn't for me to _eat_, it was an excuse to get Tommy alone.

"And for you,hon?"

"Blueberry pancakes, please." Hey, that's something I can actually make. I imagine for a brief moment making breakfast for Tommy while he sleeps, but store the thought away as an idea for later. It'd probably be too much to offer to him at the moment with his nerves the way they are, and the last thing I want is to spook him again.

She leaves with our orders, leaving us in an awkward silence.

Tommy seems anxious,his eyes are darting around, looking at the other patrons, and I lean back in the booth to stare at him some more. I look away when I see his head turn towards me, angling my eyes at one of the pictures hanging up on the wall: No need to get caught ogling.

"So-"

"I-"

Fucking fantastic. His mouth snaps closed, and the waitress is back with our orders before I can say anything to cut the awkwardness. Fuck. Fuck fuck fucking _fuck_. This is _**not**_ how I planned this out.

"It's fine, you can talk first." He's quiet as he cuts up his pancakes, definitely not skimping in the syrup either. "I never have anything important to say anyways." There's a bitterness behind those words that register with me, a bitterness that tells me he's heard them before and I don't fucking like it: Well that's just not true, is it? There's a _lot_ Tommy could say that I'd find incredibly interesting. Hell, he could probably read the _phone book_ and I'd be rapt with attention.

"I was going to ask about you, actually." That seems to stun him, and he raises his eyes from where they'd been burning holes into the table. _Jesus_, why is he always so surprised to be treated like a human being with interests and the capability to form independent thought? Why does he seem to think I'll get upset with him if he happens to do something I don't like? Do I come off like an asshole? Well I mean _obviously_, but I don't want _Tommy_ thinking I'm one.

"Ask what about me?" Would you like to ditch this thing early and get rowdy in the back of my car? Nope. Way too soon for that. Remember Nikki, no spooking.

"Y'know." I start, downing the jack as he stares in awe, relishing in the little whoa that escapes him. "What are you into?"

"_Into_?" His brows are furrowing again, but I press on. "Like what kind of shit do you like, Tommy?" Jesus babe give me something to work with here. "Um...I like comic books." He looks like he's afraid of saying the wrong thing, picking his words carefully.

"I like comic books too." That's a lie and a fucking half. I don't know shit about comic books, but with the way his eyes light up I can't find it in myself to regret the lie.

"Dude _seriously_? Who's you're favorite superhero?"

Ah shit. "..._Batman_?" I hope he likes Batman. But isn't that like a geek law? That you have to like Batman?

"Me too!" Fuck yea, I'm a goddamn genius.

He talks my ear off for a while about Batmen and Supermen and X-Men (whoever the fuck _they_ are), and even though I have no idea what he's saying, the look on his face, the look of plain happiness makes me want to listen. I feel like I'm getting another glimpse at who Tommy really is- and apparently the real Tommy is a tipsy drummer who will grope you at parties, loves comic books and, and won't hesitate you tell you if he thinks a member of your band is shit.

"-And I mean, I ended up losing the bet but I did convince my friends Batman would beat Superman in a fight because-"

"Prep time, you've told me 50 times baby boy."

He stops waving his arms again to look at me. "Oh shit, sorry." His smile is bashful as he shoves another bit of pancake into his mouth before pushing the plate away from him. He's eaten half of the first stack and there's two more under it.

"You done?" If he's done then I guess I have to take him back to the apartment. Zutaut's apartment. The thought pisses me off a little.

"Well not really, but I'm on this diet and I technically already broke it by eating those." It's the way he says it, so _nonchalant_ that strikes me as odd. Tommy's thin as it is- what the _hell_ is he on a diet for? "Why the fuck are you trying to lose weight?" I must have sounded as aghast as I felt because I can see him going on the defensive.

"Well I'm not trying to lose weight, that'd be fucking _dumb_-I'm just trying to _stay_ thin."

"You're not going to get _fat_ because you ate a stack of pancakes."

"Well _no_, but Tom wants me to keep track of what I eat so I can let him know. He's on this health food kick because of this weird Hollywood diet one of his clients told him about, and he thinks it'd be good for me, this is the only non green thing I've eaten all week." He's laughing again, like that's fucking funny.

What.The.Fuck.

No, seriously- What.The._**Fuck**_? I think my eye is twitching. He can't see that though, because he's calling the waitress over.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

"_Hit me with your best shot! Fire away!_" His voice isn't half bad actually, and I wonder why Tom hadn't bothered to take him to anyone at Elektra considering the idiot worked there.

As it stands, he's singing along to the radio, bouncing in his seat as I drive. He looks cute like this, goofy and silly, not having to consciously _pretend_ to be someone he isn't. _This_ is the Tommy I want to get to know, not the other guy. The other guy isn't this fucking cool.

"Oh _shit_, is that a record shop?" He’s staring out of my window and I look over too: Well look at that; it is.

“Do you want to go in?”

He’s looking at me like I hung the moon, just like he had that night at the party.“Can we?” Well obviously, I probably would have driven into a tree if he’d looked at me like that while he was asking. I make a big deal of considering it, scrunching my face up in exaggerated thought even as I turn into the parking lot. “_Weeellll_ since you asked.” His squeal of excitement is probably the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard and he jumps out of the car as soon as I park, pulling open my door to grab me by the hand and drag me into the shop. I wonder if he knows he’s holding my hand. If he doesn’t I’m certainly not going to tell him.

I notice in addition to the vinyls and cassettes, the shop has some instruments on display as well. I don’t get much chance to eye the guitars as Tommy leads me straight to the rock section. Turns out my Baby Boy has great taste because he’s picking up some Van Halen with a look of absolute awe on his face.

“Diver Down, man.” He turns it over in his hands gently, like it’ll shatter to pieces if he handles it too roughly. “_God_ I wanted this so bad when I was in school, but everywhere I looked for it it was sold out.” There’s a wistful look on his face, nostalgia and sadness mixing, and I’m not sure I like how crestfallen he’s starting to look when the day’s been awesome so far.

“Do you want it?”

“I don’t have any money on me.”

“I can buy it for you. I’m a super rich rockstar, remember?”

“I’m not going to make you buy me a record.” Well that’s too damn bad, because I’ve already decided I was going to, and tell him as much, ignoring his protests. For good measure I grab every other record I’d seen him looking at too, just to hear him grumble.

“And don’t even think about trying to pay me back, either.”

We spend a long between the aisles, and I manage to grab some stuff for myself too. Tommy’s looking restless so I figure it’s time to go, and we’re heading back to the front when he stops in his tracks. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when I follow his eyes to the drum section.

“_Nikki_.” His voice is almost a whisper. “Look at that fucking _kit,_ man.” Have I told y’all I don’t know shit about comic books? Yes? Well I don’t know shit about drums too. I follow him though, because I’m a smitten idiot, and watch as he runs his fingers over the crash symbol. To my uninitiated ass it looked like a regular drum, but it must have been something special with the look on his face. I almost want to ignore the _do not play_ sign and ask him to show me something good, just to see if his critiques of Coulson were just talk.

He grabs the drumsticks from where they’re resting on the stand beside him and starts quickly twirling them in-between his fingers.

Well hell, that’s pretty damn cool. I’ve never seen _Coulson_ do anything like that.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” I ask, not bothering to hide how impressed I am. He seems to think I’m going to make fun of him because he stops, an almost embarrassed look on his face. “Uh...high school band.”

“You were in band?” Try as I may, I can’t imagine Tommy in a marching band uniform. It all seems too straight laced for him.

“I was the best drummer they had.” Ok, now I _really_ want to hear him play.I want to ask him about his band, if they’d recorded anything I could listen to him on, but with how sad he’d gotten last time, I don’t want to risk ruining the mood.

“Oh _shit_. What time is it?”

I glance over to the clock. “About 1:30, why?”

“I need to get home, I’ve got boxes” _Boxes? What?_

I notice him slip the drumsticks into his belt and under his jacket as we walk to the front and can’t help but smile. Tommy can be so fucking _cool_ sometimes.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

The ride back to the rich asshole part of town is quiet, Tommy seeming to be getting prepared to slip back into his mask the closer we get to Zutaut’s-_his_ apartment.

“Do you mind parking back a block. Nosy neighbors and all.” _Jesus_, we haven’t even done anything yet and he’s treating me like his mistress. I reply in the affirmative regardless, watching him out of the corner of my eyes. He’s holding onto his records tightly, like he thinks I’ll suddenly flip the script and take them from him.

I park a block away like he’d asked, and we turn to each other to speak.

“I-“

“You-“

Unlike earlier in the diner, he laughs, and it gets me to laugh too. “Sorry man.” I say in between laughs. “You can go first this time.”

“I just wanted to say I had a really good time today.” He pauses, almost like he’s trying to think of something else. “And thank you for my records.” He looks prettier than usual when he’s happy, I decide in that moment.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Well I mean, I usually don’t _get_ to do anything fun so...” Tommy’s voice trails off, and he lets out a huff. “All I’m saying is, I don’t know _why_ you’re being so nice to me, but thanks.”

“Isn’t that what _friends_ do?” He flinches at the word. “Do nice things for each other.”

“I don’t think friends try to kiss each other. So I don’t think we can be friends, that’s what I’m trying to get at. We can’t keep playing this game.”

Oh.So that’s what this is about. I’m getting dumped by a guy I’m not even dating.Nah, that’s not going to work for me.

“I wasn’t _trying_.” I say bluntly,voice dropping an octave. “I _was_ going to kiss you. I would have done a lot more if you’d have let me.” 

“In fact, I may just have to _try_ again now.”

I can hear his breathing pick up, and his grip on the records turns white knuckle. The atmosphere in the car has changed and we can both feel it. My hand leaves the steering wheel to grip his chin, and he doesn’t even move when I lean over and in.

Kissing Tommy is absolutely _electric_. It’s everything I’ve been waiting for and more, and I can distantly hear the records clatter onto the floor of my car and his hands come up to curl in my hair, tongues tangling together. He moans into my mouth like he’s never been kissed before, and I _growl_ at the sound, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip and making him let out a shocked little gasp before I press my lips against his again. He’s like a drug, and I’m already addicted.

I love my car, but right now I wish we were _anywhere_ else. I wish we were back at my place, back in my room so I could lay him down on the bed and-

“_Stop_.”

He’s pushing me back, and that familiar panic has set into his eyes. “I can’t do this. Holy fucking _**shit**_ I can’t do this.” Oh come the fuck _on_.

“Why _not_?”

He stares at me incredulously, like I’m asking a stupid question.

“I have a boyfriend. Who I _love_.” Well that’s a laugh riot.

“I don’t think you would have made out with me if you loved him.”

I can instantly tell I’ve fucked up by the way his eyes harden. Anger is a new look on Tommy, and I’m not ashamed to say I find it kind of hot. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. Or him. Or our relationship. Stay the _fuck_ away from me, if you want an easy lay go find a groupie. _**Christ**_ I’m a fucking idiot- I actually thought you were being genuine.”

I grab his wrist as he tries to exit the car. “You’re making a mistake.” There’s so much I want to tell him: How I can see the real Tommy and like him for who he is, that I _don’t_ just want an easy lay, that I know him and Tom are no good together, but all that escapes me is. “Just get back in the car so we can talk about this.”

“_We_ have nothing else to say to each other. This is done.” And he’s gone, rushing down the block like the hounds of Hell are on his ass.

He didn’t even take his records.

I lay my head against the steering wheel, letting the horn go. My life is **_garbage_**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHELP. JUST WHEN THINGS ARE GOING WELL SOMETHING HAS TO FUCK OUR BOYS UP.
> 
> Y’all didn’t think it’d be that easy did you? 😈


	8. VIII-Tough choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy stews in his misery before finally deciding what needs to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not even going to lie I fucking hate this chapter. Like I think it’s genuine garbage but at this point I’ve rewritten it about 6 times and it can’t get any better so hopefully someone enjoys it at least a little bit.

Tommy's POV

The packages hadn't there when I got home.

Apparently they'd been snatched again; You'd _think_ living in such a high class part of town, we'd have better security in our goddamn apartment complex, but no- I can't leave for three hours without someone stealing my boyfriends shit. Tom had absolutely _reamed_ me when he found out, telling me how _dumb_ and _useless_ I could be sometimes, asking me _how hard could it be to follow simple instructions_. I'd heard that rant from him about a thousand times before, but fuck had I had a _day_. I hadn't even been able to stop myself from bursting into tears.

It wasn't funny at the time, but looking back at it now the look of absolute _shock_ on Tom's face had been fucking _hilarious_. Poor guy looked like I had shot his dog right in front of his eyes. He'd immediately shut the hell up, crossing the room to awkwardly envelope me in his arms and pat my back, telling me it was going to be alright. I wasn't crying over his words though, harsh and hurtful as they were, no, I'd been crying over Nikki: The fucker really had me going for a while, _really_ had me thinking he wanted something other than sex from me. I felt so fucking _stupid_\- Just like Tom had said. Maybe I was stupid: Poor, stupid Tommy, who can't pick up packages without fucking up. Poor, stupid Tommy, who thought someone might _actually_ care about him. What a joke. I’m a joke.

He's been handling me with kid gloves since my breakdown, walking on eggshells like anything he could say might set me off again. It feels good, watching _him_ squirm for once, watching _him_ have to think over his every word in a desperate attempt not to upset me. I've been a fucking princess in his eyes all week, something small and delicate that needs to be taken care of. I swear he's given me more gifts these past few days than the entirety of our relationship and I'm both flattered and offended- I'd never cried in front of Tom, but if I'd known earlier all it took for him to be waiting on me hands and feet was a few tears, I would have stopped crying in the bathroom and just had a fit on our living room floor.

I can’t help but feel like he doesn't _really_ give a fuck about my feelings. I feel like is another part of the game to him: See, the thing with Tom is he doesn't like feeling _guilty_. He can needle and talk down to me all day long, but if my face stays blank, if I don't give him a reaction, he sees it as me not caring, so he doesn't feel any guilt. My tears had scared him because they were evidence, evidence that he was hurting me one way or another. It's almost a pattern by now: He'll say or do something exceptionally hurtful to me and I'll react in a way he can't ignore. My face will fall, or my lips will quiver, and all of the sudden he's _So, so sorry he hurt me. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you on purpose, right babe?_

Like I said, I'd never actually cried in front of him before then, and it had scared the shit out of him. Scared him so bad the script has flipped in our apartment. Well Tom, my dearly beloved, _stupid_ love, those tears hadn't been for _you_.

But I was happy to exploit them all the same. Happy to weaponize those tears until I couldn't use them anymore- I think I have another week left before he finds something wrong with me, something he can press at me about and not feel guilty when I don't cry.

But for now, this is my show.

He's been talking all week about this business trip Elektra is sending him on: Two weeks in England to scout this local rock band that had sent in a demo. If he actually signs the band he might be gone even longer while he works through the deal. I'm _praying_ to god they're the most epic band of all fucking time, praying to god he actually signs them. Two weeks without Tom is a vacation, three would be a fucking _blessing_ because I’ll actually have some time to myself, some time to fucking think and _process_ everything that’s happened. I'll have to put my vacation on hold , though, because he's leaving tomorrow. Tonight, however, he's taking me to a party one of his clients is throwing, and I'm kind of surprised because Tom _hates_ parties.

I guess my tears fucked him up worse than I thought. He doesn't even complain when he sees my outfit, and I'd purposefully dressed kind of slutty just to see if I could set him off, makeup done just to see what unimportant thing could make him flip his lid.

I'm kind of fucking impressed. Tom hasn't been this patient with me since the early days of our relationship, when he'd buy me flowers _just 'cause_ and tell me I was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. I miss those days a lot, now that I think about it. Miss cuddling on the couch watching the shitty sci-fi flicks I loved so much and he absolutely hated but watched for my benefit, miss him driving me all over L.A to buy me whatever I wanted, miss the genuinely awful love poems he used to leave me around the apartment to find while he was at work. I don't know why things changed....Well yea, yea I do: The workload increased, the promotion he'd been so desperately after turned out to be more than he bargained for, and his co-workers were no walk in the park either. I'd been the only thing in his life he could control anymore, the only person he could _lash out_ at with impunity, and every bad day at work, every insult from his peers, was my fault and my problem. I know our relationship is kind of fucked up now, it may not seem like it, but I do. I just accept it because that’s what mature people do right? Make the best out of a bad situation?

But now... I don't know. He's so _quiet_ now, and I can see him staring at me when he thinks I'm not looking. There's something weird going on in that head of his. He's been telling me this time apart will be good for us both because _absence makes the heart grow fonder_, whatever the hell that means. I think it means he'll miss me so much when he's gone he'll realize I'm the only person in the world that would possibly put up with his shit and he'll be _awesome_ to me again when he gets back. Because I miss _Awesome_ Tom. _Awesome_ Tom made me laugh and kept me happy and got me off in bed.

I doubt _Awesome_ Tom will be back any time soon, but it doesn't really matter to me- I'm used to mean Tom and I'm used to nice Tom and I'm _savvy_ enough to deal with either.

I'm just ready to get to this party and get absolutely wasted so I can forget about him, his job, _Nikki_-

Nope. I've made it my goal all week to not think about him and I'm not going to start now. I'm going to go out with my _boyfriend_ and have fun.

And just...not think about him at all. Not even a little bit.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

If there’s one thing all of Tom’s clients have in common, it’s that they all know how to fucking _party_, and the _names I can’t remember_ are no exception. The party’s in full swing when me and Tom get past the bouncer and even though I’ve never been to this club I think I fucking love it already.

_This_ is my scene, wild and chaotic and just fucking _rock n roll_, not the stuffy label parties Tom’s always dragging me to.

Speaking of Tom, he’s holding on to my waist like I’m a goddamn lifeline, like I can somehow shield him from every scumbag in L.A., it’s kind of cute how anxious he looks as I drag us further into the club and - holy shit was that David Lee Roth? Did Tom bring me to a party with _David Lee Fucking Roth_? I may just find it in my heart to forgive him for tossing my heels out last month. I just saw David Lee _**fucking**_ Roth.

There’s a band on the stage and I’m thinking they’re new to the scene with how nervous they look. They remind me of my band, fresh out of high school and into the city, hungry and desperate for a deal or a crowd or any kind of attention. I hope it works out for them, I really do. I hope they get the most epic deal in the history of epic deals, I hope they rock every venue on the face of the earth and look good doing it.

I hope they stay happy.

I hope they don’t let anyone take this from them.

Fuck. I need a drink, so I put on my _baby voice_ and ask Tom to go to the bar and bring me something back as I nestle into the velveteen couches by the back of the club. The couple next to me starts making out as soon as he leaves and I can’t help but laugh: _Oh, to be young and in love_, I remember those days....Jesus, why am I talking like an old man? I _just_ turned nineteen. That’s a little young to be bitter and jaded.

There are lights in my eyes, and I lean back into the couch in an attempt to escape them, the music from the band blasting in my ears. It’s surprisingly comfortable for a seedy L.A nightclub, but I guess the owners wanted the junkies and drunks to have a nice place to crash. I wonder if anyone else is here. Maybe someone from The Eagles? or Pink Floyd? I scan the crowd best as I can, eyes widening as I zero in on a blonde in ridiculous white leather pants.

Oh god.

Oh _**no**_. Is that fucking _Vince Neil_? And Mick Mars with him? I guess the saying where there’s smoke, there’s fire is true because the fucking drummer is here too. Why does God hate me? I haven’t been to church since I was 15 but I still pray, I’m a good person and I don’t deserve this shit.

I take a deep breath and look towards the bar.

Yep.

God hates me.

Nikki looks good, I’ll admit it. And I’m bitterly glad that _one_ of us isn’t being absolutely tormented by that kiss. In fact, I’d venture that he hasn’t thought of me at all since I left him in his car on the block, car horn blasting through the air, I’d venture that thought, because he has a girl with him: She’s pretty. She’s beautiful even, I can tell that even in the dim lighting. Tall and leggy with wavy dark hair. I guess Nikki took my advice about finding an _easy lay _seriously because she’s hanging all over him, running her hands down him arm and he’s not doing much to dissuade her. Well fucking good for him. I don’t care, he’s not myboyfriend and he’s not my problem. He’s not my anything, if he wants to run around with some chick he sure fucking can.

Tom comes back with my drink after a while and I down it in one go. I’m going to need to be drunk to deal with this bullshit.

I hate Nikki, I decide in that moment. I hate how he tricked me, fooled me into thinking he actually cared, hate him for kissing me, leaving my head all twisted and fucked up.

Hate him for moving on so fast, for finding a girl so beautiful and just replacing me entirely.

I hate him, I never want to fucking speak to him again. And it may not be fair but I hate her too right now, _whoever_ the hell she is. Hate how she caresses his arms, hate how she rests her head on his shoulder, presses kisses to his jaw and he continues to slowly sip straight out of the whiskey bottle, hate how she can just so casually do everything I wish I could.

No. No. I made my choice and I’m sticking to it. Fuck them both, they _deserve_ each other. They head to the dancefloor- well, more she drags him away from his booze while he looks disinterested, and I watch as they find a spot in between the other couples. She places his hands her on hips and starts to move, but he stares blankly ahead, going through the motions like a robot.

“Tom.” I say, not taking my eyes off of the pair. “Let’s go dance.”

He’s sputtering out excuses as I grab his arm. Tom can’t dance, I _know_ he can’t dance, but that’s entirely fucking fine by me- I just need him to help me prove a _point_.

I position us across from Nikki and his girl, pushing into the thong of people as the music swells from the stage. I’m not much of a dancer myself, usually preferring to drink and act a fool at parties, but god damn it am I charged up and ready for a confrontation as I press my back to Tom’s chest. I’m only a little taller than him, so the position isn’t terribly awkward, and I’m able to keep my eye on Sixx from where a few other couples separate us.

I take Tom’s hands and bring them up to my hips as the bands starts to change, and Nikki’s girl turns them further around so he’s facing my direction. I can see his eyes widen in recognition as he catches my gaze, narrowing as he notices Tom behind me.

Good.

The music is starting again, lights dimming again as another band takes the stage, and I start to move my hips to the rhythm, rolling against Tom on the dancefloor. I bring my hand up to tangle into his hair as the bass booms, grinding, rolling, and swaying back against his crotch as Nikki holds eye contact with me. Tom’s hands are shaking, and he’s stiff as a board as I continue to grind my ass into his crotch, but he’s hard and so so _easy_ like this.

I can feel him start to move behind me, and his movements are slow and sluggish, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do even as his hands come up to grope my chest. I lean my head back onto his neck, hand coming up to cup his jaw. There’s something _dark_ in Nikki’s eyes as he watches us over his girls shoulder, and I decide to test the waters even more by capturing Tom’s mouth in a kiss, keeping my eyes open and on Nikki the whole time.

I snake my tongue out to lick my lips when we break apart, and for a second Nikki moves forward, almost forgetting about his date entirely. _Good_. Seethe motherfucker. It’s not _fun_ having your _head played with_, now is it?

He kisses her, eyes still on me, and my breath catches in my throat. I guess turnabout is fair play, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it, doesn’t mean I can’t hold a little bitterness in me.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I say to Tom, spinning around in his arms to press a fleeting kiss to his mouth. He stands there shock still like a mannequin as I take off, following the signs to the dingy, small men’s room. _It’s irrational_, I think, for me to be hurt because Nikki kissed some random girl, especially after I basically fucked Tom on the dance floor in front of him but god damn it I am. I’ve tried and tried to convince myself that I don’t need Nikki, that I can find any attractive guy in L.A to waste my time on, but there’s just something about him I can’t describe, something electric and just _special_.

Not that it matters.Theres a million reasons I can’t be with him and I think I’ve made my position quite clear. The mirror’s mocking me, telling me I look a mess because honest to god I do. I put my hands on the sink, looking down and letting my hair curtain around my face. This fucking _**sucks**_.

The door slams open, banging against the wall before slamming shut, and I’m praying to god it’s not who I think it is.

“You know, you sure play a lot of fucking _games_ for a guy that didn’t want anything to do with me last weekend.” Fuck. Of course it’s Nikki, why wouldn’t it be? He sounds pissed too, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry, it’s almost scary.

And perplexingly sexy.

“Fuck.Off.” I can’t even bring myself to look at him, still staring into the sink. Can’t he see I want to be alone in my misery? Why is he interrupting a perfectly good pity party?I hear his boots clicking on the floor, fast as all hell, and there’s a rough grip on my arm as he whirls me around to face him. His eyes are on fire as they burrow into mine, and for a second I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or punch my lights out.

At this point either would be a blessing.

“Let go of me.” Jesus, even to my own ears that didn’t sound convincing.

“No. I should have done this when you left me in the car.”

“Just fucking _leave me alone._” His grip tightens as I try to pull away, and he pulls my body flush to his, leaving us chest to chest and he stares into my eyes, his orbs still blazing.

“You’re never going to fucking _admit it_, are you?”

“I don’t know what the _fuck_ you’re talking abo-“

“You’re never going to admit that you want me just as much as I want you.”

“Stop I-“

“You think that I just want you for sex, you think I just want an easy lay. Well newsflash Baby Boy, if I wanted one I could get one.”

Oh trust me, I know, his _floozy_ outside is testament to that fact, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Wait- why are you so upset, Lee? You rejected him. This is what you wanted.

“But I don’t fucking want _easy_, I want _you_. Why the hell do you think I’ve been chasing you these past few weeks? For my fucking _amusement_? Do you think this is _fun_ for me? Do you think I _like_ seeing you with him? Do I seem like a _fucking masochist_ to you?” He’s crowding me against the sink now, and my eyes dart to the door. If anyone were to come in right now they’d probably think he was shaking me down for money or drugs with how tight his grip is and how _intense_ the look on his face is.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want from me Sixx.” I can hear my voice cracking as the tears start to form in my eyes. I can’t believe he’s still doing this, still trying to pretend he _cares_.

I can’t believe I’m still falling for it.

“For fucks sake Tommy.” He sounds absolutely exasperated. “I want _**you**_! I thought I’d made that perfectly clear by now!” He’s kissing me before I can even respond, and it’s just as sensational as it had been the first time. _Great fucking job Lee_, I think to myself bitterly. _You’ve got a resolve of fucking tissue paper, you know this fucker doesn’t care about you, and yet you’re letting him grope you in a fucking nightclub bathroom._

His tongue prods at my lips, and I open my mouth against my better judgment, gasping as his hands come up under my thighs and hoist me onto the sink, pressing our hips together in an electric jolt to us both.

_It’s just like in my dream._

I curl my arms around his neck as a tear falls onto my cheek, his tongue curling slowly against mine as he kisses me. It’s like he’s trying to steal the breath from my lungs with every move he makes, and I’m trembling with a mixture of pure adrenaline and something I can’t quite put my finger on. I whimper into his mouth and he goes down to bite on my lower lip, startling another moan out of me.

Nikki abandons my mouth to attack my neck, kissing the skin softly, and I want to warn him not to leave any marks before he’s in my ear.

“Come home with me.”

“You know I can- _fuck_.” He bit my earlobe, the fucker really bit me. “Fuck _Nikki, _you know I can’t do that.”

“_Whyyy?_” his voice is a whine as he starts thrusting against me, languidly rolling his hips in between mine, and I wrap my thighs around his hips, moaning out into the quiet of the room.

“I have to drive Tom to the airport tomorrow.” God I sound like such a _slut_. My voice is breathy and light and desperate, like I’m absolutely _starved_ for touch.

He stops.

I _whine_.God I’m pathetic. And desperate. And just plain _weak_.

“What the fuck did you just say, Tommy?” That dark look is back in his eyes, and his grip on my hips in tightening.

“I have to drive Tom to the airport tomorrow?” I’m confused. Why isn’t he kissing me anymore? What did I do wrong? Why do I still want him to kiss me even though I know I should stay away from him?

The smile that forms on his face is absolutely _wicked_.

“Babe, I want you to _repeat_ what you just said.”

“I have to take Tom- oh _fuck_.”

“_Yup_.”

“How long is he going to be gone?” I can practically _hear_ the gears turning in Nikki’s head as his smile grows, eyes absolutely _shining_ in the light.

“Two weeks.”

Jesus Christ. Tom is going to be gone for two weeks, maybe more, and Nikki fucking Sixx knows it now.

“Oh darlin, that’s the best news I’ve heard all _month_\- tell you what: I’ll come by tomorrow night and you and and I can finally _sit the fuck down and talk_ about everything that’s gone on between us.” Talk? _Talk?_ _Now_ he wanted to talk? When I was practically ready for him to fuck me in the bathroom of a nightclub? Now he wanted to talk? I could almost _cry_ at the injustice of it all.

“Sure. Fine. _Whatever_.” My dour look doesn’t affect his glee at all, and he crushes our mouths together in one last searing kiss before stepping back, leaving me sitting on the edge of the sink, mouth red and swollen.

“See you tomorrow, Baby Boy.” He’s gone with a wink and I know what I have to do.

I have to fuck Nikki. The timing’s right, Tom will be gone long enough for me to get rid of the evidence and then some. It’s an awful thing to do to Tom, who I really do love, but I think he’d rather I get it over with than fantasize about another man for the rest of our lives together. Hell, it might actually save our relationship because then I’ll be able to focus on him and only him.

I just have to fuck Nikki when he comes over tomorrow and get him out of my system for good. The fantasizing will stop, the dreams will stop, and things can finally go back to normal because we’d have gotten what we both wanted from the situation- sex, plain and simple. I know that’s all he wants, and I know it’s all I want.

It’s settled then. We’ll have one night together and never see each other again.

It’s for the best.

Now I just have to use one of these stalls to get rid of my boner before I get Tom to take me home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and missing the point entirely, name a more iconic duo.


	9. IX-Not quite a solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no other options, Tommy exhausts his last plan of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was a hassle to write. Smut warning all over this chapter...but not like, well written smut or anything, so don’t get your hopes up.

Tommy's POV

It’s 12:30 and I’ve been all nerves all morning. As usual, Tom hasn’t noticed my distress, too busy dashing around the apartment and doing some last minute packing. I swear you’d think he was _moving_ with the amount of luggage he was taking- luggage he’ll expect me to carry to the car by myself, of course. I’m laying on the couch, staring blankly at the tv as he zooms around our living space, mumbling under his breath about how _he was going to be late _and _where the hell did I put that file?_ I kind of wish he’d shut up: my thoughts are chaotic and disorganized enough without his frantic scrambling distracting me.

“Alright, _fuck_. Babe, let’s go.”

Oh god. I take it back. Keep talking, Tom, cancel your trip, don’t _leave_ me, because I know what-_who’s_ coming if you do, and despite the resolve I’d felt yesterday, despite hyping myself up to face him, I honestly don’t know if I can do it, honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to just let him have me and _leave_ me like I’m some common groupie he picked up after a show.

“_Today_, Tommy.”

I’m going to have to.

I’m going to have to be ready for this, because deep down I know it’s the best way-the _only_ way- to get my life back on track, to get Nikki out of head once and for all: I’ll just give him what he wants, give him what he’s been after, and he’ll leave me alone, he’ll have no reason to stick around afterwards. The chase will be over and the game will be won, and he can go brag to his friends about how easy it was to get me into bed. It might hurt at first, because god help me I could have actually seen myself developing _feelings_ for him, but I owe it to Tom and to myself not to let what we’ve worked towards be ruined because I’m lusting after someone else.

Just _lusting_. Nothing else.

“_Babe!_”

But first, I have to drop Tom off.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I’d prayed for Elektra to call Tom and tell him the trip was canceled before we’d gotten in the car, I’d prayed for a traffic jam on our way to the airport, and when we got there I prayed the plane would get grounded: literally _anything_ to delay the inevitable. Just because I know what I have to do doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the _hell_ out of me. But of _course_ today would be the day there’s no problems in my life, of _course_ everything went smoothly from the second we left home to the second we arrived at the airport.

Tom’s boarding soon, and I can tell he’s excited. He loves flying, he’d even told me he wanted to be a pilot when he was younger. There’s just something about being in the air that makes him _happy_, far happier than I’ve ever made him, but I’m not going to get jealous over a goddamn _plane_. He looks over to me when his flight gets announced, and my stomach is twisting into knots: It’s really happening, he’s really leaving the fucking country. I won’t see him again for two fucking _weeks_.

But I _will_ be seeing Nikki tonight.

I must look nervous, because he once again mistakes my thoughts about Nikki for being about him, and he cups my face in his hands, eyes softening as I rest my own over his.

“Don’t worry Tommy, I’ll be back before you know it.” Yea, I know. And a little bitty part of me wants you gone as long as possible, that’s the worst part. I force a smile on my face regardless, and lean in to press a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’ll think about you everyday.” It’s true, and I’ll probably feel guilty as hell because of what I have to do. “Don’t forget to call.” I love him. I really do. I want to tell him that, want to say a lot of things, but he’s heading towards the terminal before I can locate my tongue again and I’m left standing there, alone except for my thoughts.

I need a drink. I need to go home and hit crack open the liquor cabinet because I’m going to need a _lot_ of liquid courage to face Nikki.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I’m not sure what to do in preparation for a one night stand. Before Tom, I’d had two girlfriends in high school that I’d dated for a decent amount of time, and truth be told I never put much effort into anything- which is _probably_ why they dumped me in the end.

I’ve been wandering around the apartment all day, tequila bottle in hand as I go over the already spotless place again and again. I’m not drunk, not even halfway there, but I feel a little pleasantly buzzed and there’s a warm, fuzzy feeling in my gut that’s overtaken my earlier nerves: I can do this, it’s just _sex_. Me and Tom have sex all the time, and while I can’t usually classify it as _good_ sex, I can confidently say I know the basics. I doubt Nikki will be too concerned with me once he has my face in the pillows, he’ll probably just want to get his and go.

Tom always does.

I huff out a sigh, flopping onto the couch, and the TV is playing some random infomercial about unusually sharp kitchen knives. Do me and Tom need more kitchen knives? Maybe that’s why everything I try to cook turns to shit, my knives aren’t sharp enough: Oh shit they have nonstick copper pans too. Tom hates when I get stuff stuck to the pans. Where the fuck is the phone? I’m about to buy this shit, and my cooking will be so awesome he’s going to fucking _propose_ to me when he gets back.

I’m going for the phone before I even realize I’ve gotten up off the couch. Tom must have left at least _one_ of his credit cards around, right? He usually doesn’t care if I spend a little money, and I am doing this for his benefit, I don’t give a damn about super sharp knives and fancy pans but I know he’ll- holy _fuck_ look how pretty the sunset is. That’s fucking breathtaking. Wait, is it getting dark already? **Fuck**. How long have I been cleaning? How long was I on the couch? I haven’t even done my hair or got into anything sexy. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you have a one night stand right? I don’t think Nikki will want to fuck me if I look like a mother of four whose kids are at school. I need to take a shower and prepare myself so we can get this _thing_ done as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

I follow my usual morning routine best as I can: Hopping into the shower as soon as I see steam fogging up the mirror and almost scalding my skin in the process. I’ve learned to be thorough when I shower, because sometimes when Tom wants to fuck he gets impatient, and I’m not expecting Nikki to be any different. I brush my teeth and rinse with mouthwash before trying to do _something_ about my hair situation. Apparently lying around all day had frizzed it into a big ball, and I nearly pull some clumps out taming it back into its usual waves.

Should I bother with any makeup? Maybe just a little. Tom’s always telling me appearances are everything.

Alright. I look good, I’m tipsy enough not to freak the fuck out when Nikki gets here, and I shoved a few fingers inside myself in the shower so we can get started as soon as he gets here. This is great. Everything’s going to be **fine. **Sighing, I head back into the living room and glance at the obnoxious ass grandfather clock Tom had picked up at some antique store: It’s nearing 7:30. Sixx will be here any minute, and I console myself with the knowledge that by tomorrow this will all be over, we’ll have had a mutually beneficial ending to this entire farce and he’ll never speak to me again.

I don’t know why that thought makes me a little sad.

I probably should have asked Nikki when he’d be showing up, because I can feel my buzz fading and my nerves shooting up again as the time goes on. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but with Tom’s ever-changing moods I’ve learned to anticipate the worst. I take another gulp of tequila, the burn of my throat distracting me from my thoughts before I hear the intercom buzz from the door: That can only mean one thing.The lobby’s calling.

**Fuck**. It’s really going to happen.

Maybe I should just down the entire bottle. It’s the expensive shit Tom loves but I’m sure I could pay one of the neighbors to go out and buy a replacement for him._Maybe_ I just shouldn’t answer, pretend I’m not home or something.

No, Lee. You made your bed and you’re going to lie in it.

I walk to the door with a creeping sense of dread and press my finger to the intercom button, listening as the concierge’s voice cuts through the silence.

“One visitor for Tommy Lee, a Mr._Nikki Sixx_” she almost sounds like she can’t believe it. Well join the club sister, because neither can I. “May I let him up?”

It’s too late to change your mind now, Lee.

“Sir?” Find your fucking _brain_.

“Yea, yea. Go ahead and let him up.”Well, you’ve done it now.I leave the door unlocked and sit down at the kitchen table. Nothing to do now but wait and accept my fate when it comes. I imagine it won’t be _too_ bad, Nikki’s probably had about a hundred hookups by now, so he’ll probably make this a little enjoyable for me.The doorknob turning breaks me out of my daze. _Speak of the devil and he’ll walk into your apartment like he owns the place_. Nikki looks good, I’ll admit, but then again he always does. He’s got that smile on his face, the one that says I can do no wrong, and I envy his nonchalant attitude. He’s got _something_ in his hands as he approaches me, but I can’t tell what it is yet.

“I bought you your records. You know, the ones you left in my car when you ran off?” Oh, _right_. I mutter a small “_Thank you._” as he hands them to me, and place them on the table. We stay in silence for a moment longer.

_Jesus Christ Lee, just do it already._Don’t let him spin you anymore pretty lies, just get it _over_ with.

I stand when he looks like he’s about to open his mouth and before he can even say anything I’ve pressed my lips to his. It’s an unusual switch to our dynamic: Me leading for once while he seems confused by the entire situation, I’d find his stiff stature amusing if I wasn’t so _impatient_. I bite down on his bottom lip harshly, tugging it in between my teeth, and that’s enough to startle him into opening his mouth so I can slide my tongue inside, brushing it against his. The movement seems to finally startle him and he grabs me by my waist, pushing me an arms length away.

Oh what _**now**_?

“Woah woah _woah_. What’s all _this_ about? I thought we were actually going to talk for once.” I want to hit him, I really do. What does he want to talk about? How much he wants to fuck me? Well I know that already, it’s why I’m doing this.There’s no need for him to pretend to _care_ anymore.

I back us up towards the table, hand fisted in the front of his shirt as he stares at me incredulously and raise myself up on the edge, keeping his hips in between my thighs as they had been in that nightclub. More often than not, any hint of sexuality can get Tom under my thumb for at least a little while, and I’m sure I can employ the same method of seduction against a horny rockstar.

I lower my gaze, staring up at him from under my lashes, and feel a sick hint of satisfaction as his breath catches. “What’s the matter,Nikki?” my voice is a _purr_ as I say his name, and the flush on his face is an absolute _rush_ as I realize something I probably should have figured out a long time ago: I can set the pace here. As long as he wants to sleep with me, I have the advantage, he’ll listen to me and he won’t hurt me if I keep him horny and happy for at least one night. “Don’t you _want_ me anymore?”

He actually has the nerve to look conflicted, like he hadn’t manipulated our entire relationship to get to this point. Maybe he’s feeling guilty because he knows I have a boyfriend- I doubt it though.

“C’mon Tommy, we have a lot of shit we need to work out before we can-“ Nope.

I pull him closer as I lean back on an elbow, and now we’re chest to chest while I’m practically lying on the table. I can feel him getting hard, and I’m shocked to find out that I am too. Pulling his waist closer with my legs, I start moving against him, friction shooting through both our bodies, and my ears pick up on a groan he lets out under his breath, and he seems to be fighting with something, hands shaky as they come up to rest on my hips. He’s still trying to talk, so I pull him down completely, crashing our mouths together in another kiss. He returns the kiss this time after some stillness, grip tightening as he seems to lose himself, and I moan as he opens his mouth and tangles our tongues, taking the lead from me as he leans further over me, hips starting to move against mine.

I take my hand away from the front of his shirt and move to untuck the bottom from his pants as he kisses me, letting out a groan of protest as his hands grab my wrist and squeeze. What _**now**_?

Nikki stops kissing me, standing back between my legs, and I narrow my eyes at him. I’m so _tired_ of him dragging this out.

“What are you doing?” He asks, and I can’t decipher the look in his eyes.

“What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?” This is fucking _absurd_.

“I’m trying to _talk_ to you!”

“I don’t think either of us want to _talk_ right now.”

I reach up with my free hand and grasp a considerable amount of his hair, trying to goad him into action and pull him close to me again, but he resists my pull with that same confusing look in his eyes, staring down at me like _I’m_ the one in the wrong.

“Don’t try and change the subject Tommy. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I-“ Oh god, I’m not about to start crying. Absolutely fucking not right now.Why does he have to make this so much harder than it needs to be? Why can’t he just accept that I’m finally proving just how weak I am and letting him win this game? Why does he have to keep _looking_ at me like that?

“I _need_ you to fuck me.” Need you to _end_ this. My voice is cracking, how utterly humiliating. “How..._hard_ is that for you to understand?” His brows furrow in confusion.

“Tommy-“

“Shut up. Just shut the _hell_ up Nikki: You wouldn’t be able to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to sleep me with me if I asked you to, so don’t fucking go _virginal_ on me now when I know you want this.” The _too_ in that statement goes unsaid.

“I’m just trying to-“

“Do you know how hard it was for me to admit I wanted you? How _guilty_ I felt looking at Tom everyday while I was thinking about you? _You_ fucking did that to me Sixx, and you did it on _purpose_\- You tried to kiss me at that concert _knowing_ it would fuck with my head one way or another, and you just didn’t _care, _so please excuse me if I don’t want to _talk right now_.”

I wrench my wrists out of his grasp and pull him in by his hair, lips almost touching. "If you care about me, even a little, you'll stop talking and _get inside me_.”

“Tommy-“ His voice is low now, dropping into that familiar _growl_ I’d heard yesterday.

“I’m _yours_.” But just for tonight: That will be enough for _both_ of us.

And that’s seems to be his breaking point, eyes darkening so much they’re almost black in the light of the kitchen.

“**Fine**. But I don’t give a fuck what you say, we _are_ talking about this afterwards.” Not likely.

There’s no resistance when he leans in this time, no protest or complaint when he captures my mouth, sloppy and wild and _lustful_. I curl my hand around his bicep as he starts thrusting again, and he swallows my moans, tongues meeting and teeth clanking as we lose ourselves in each other. It’s hard to breathe with him kissing me like this, and I inhale sharply when he steps back, staring down at me with desire in his eyes to start stripping out of his clothes, nodding in approval when I follow his lead.

I feel almost shy again, his intense gaze on my body as I lay on the kitchen table in my underwear: He’s not saying anything though, eyes traveling over my half naked form. I’m about to ask him what his problem was when he’s suddenly on top of me again, hand shoved between our bodies to palm my cock over my briefs, making me shout out into the air.

“_Fuck_!” Nikki buries his head into the crook of my neck, licking a wet stripe up to my jaw, and I know I must sound so _loud_ in his ears as I grind against his palm. I know it’s wrong, I know he doesn’t care about me, but god help me I _want_ him right now.“_Please_.” I don’t know what’s wrong with me, don’t know how such simple foreplay has me burning up inside. Nikki is _relentless_ as he teases me, and I honestly think I could cum from just _this, _just his hands on my cock and his voice in my ear.

“_Get up._” It’s growled into my ear in a tone that leaves no room for rebellion, but I’m so _gone, _so lost in desire and want and a dreadful sense of _**guilt**_ that I can’t help but whine.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to fuck you on a table for our first time.” His weight is off of me, and I open my eyes to see him stepping back, cock rock hard. So Nikki went commando? I should have guessed. “Show me where your bedroom is.” It almost feels like going _too far_, like _too much _of a betrayal to fuck another man in our bed, but I remember I’m doing this _**for**_ Tom, and make a solemn vow to buy new sheets when Nikki leaves, leading Nikki down the hallway to me and Tom’s room. He turns me around, his chest pressing against my back, and trails his teeth up the side of my neck. I’m afraid he’s going to bite me for a moment and I’ll have to explain that to Tom, but he pushes me down on the bed instead.

“Lube?”

I motion to the bedside table without even picking my head up from the blankets, the sound of the drawer opening barely registering at all. Nikki grips my hips, pulling me closer to the end of the bed to slide my briefs off, and I feel a strange vindication: I guess I _had_ been right about him being like Tom, but I guess it’s better if he can’t see my face and I can’t see his- no emotional attachment.

I feel his hands spread me open, and I’m expecting him to just lube up and go for it. What I’m not expecting, however, is a wet stripe to pass over my hole.

“Holy _**fuck**_!” I can’t help the exclamation, Tom had never done that to me before, _no one_ had ever done that to me before, and the sensation was new: both frightening and exciting, strange and _incredible_. I hear Nikki let out a chuckle behind me, low and sultry, and he delivers a soft _smack_ to my left asscheek.

“_Juuust relax_, Baby Boy, I know what I’m doing.” Well I’m sure glad he does, because I have no fucking **idea** anymore.

All I can do is curl my fingers into the sheets and press my face into the bed as he continues to eat me out, an honest to god _scream_ escaping me when his tongue presses inside my hole. My body’s red hot: I feel like I’m on fire as he slides further inside, and I can’t decide if I want to try to escape the pleasure or press back onto his tongue to seek out more. I can feel my cock _dripping_ onto the sheets as he manipulates my body, thrusting his tongue in and out of me now, and I’m _sobbing_ into the sheets as he does.

“Nikki.” I gasp out, turning my head to the side when he stops lapping greedily at my hole. “_Please_.”

Before I can say anything else, I feel a well-lubed finger sliding inside just as his tongue had earlier, moaning weakly as a second joins it soon afterward.

“I know baby.” His voice is soft, almost affectionate, and for a moment I wish I could see his face. “You’re being so good for me, Tommy. I’ll give you what you need soon.”

The praise warms me, and he adds a third finger, tutting softly as he presses them in and out of me, making my hips buck back into his hand. “Now _let’s see._” His fingers crook, and all I can do is bow my head and moan helplessly into the sheets and he rubs against my prostate. I don’t know how the fuck he managed to _find_ it that fast. Me and Tom have been together for almost a year and he barely even bothers anymore.

“There we go!” He sounds absolutely _thrilled_ with himself, the smug bastard.

“_Nikki_!” The stretch of the three fingers is almost too much for me, and I can feel the tell tale knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “_Please. I- I’m going to_-“

“Alright baby, I got you.” His fingers slide out of me with a wet _squelch_ and I whine again at how utterly _empty_ I feel without them inside my hole. I hear a wrapper shuffling behind me and realize Nikki must have grabbed one of the condoms from the bedside table when he went for the lube.

I push myself up on my hands and knees, still facing the bed as he grips my hips, an alarmed sound escaping my lips when he turns me over onto my back and starts pulling me up the bed. It’s the way he’s looking down at me, eyes so soft as they burrow into mine,his face illuminated by the blue rays of moonlight coming in through the windows that keep me quiet as he slides between my legs, the head of his cock nudging against my stretched hole.

I gasp as he presses into me slowly, biting down on my lip as he breaks that perplexing eye contact to press soft kisses into my neck and soothe me against the intrusion. It’s so _strange_: It’s not like he’s _fucking_ me at all, it’s more like he’s-

No. I’m not even going to _think_ those words.

Nikki doesn’t just pound into me like I expected him to, his hips move languidly, movements slow and deep, and the drag of his cock inside me has my eyes rolling back and whimpers escaping my lips. I know I’m not supposed to be enjoying this, but I can’t help the way he makes me feel.

“You feel so fucking good Tommy.” The words are a heated whisper into my skin, and I gasp aloud as he presses into my prostate again, electric shock shooting through my veins. I’ve _never_ felt anything like this before, and my nails rake down his back as his speed increases, balls slapping against my ass with every shove of his cock. “Fucking _knew_ we’d be great together.”

“_Shit_.” Every move he makes has me moaning louder and louder, writhing under his weight as he hits me over and over almost effortlessly every time. White spots are dancing in my vision, and I’m almost painfully hard. I’m close, I can tell, and I bring a hand down to my cock to jerk myself off, whining when Nikki raises up to slap my hand away.

“What’d I tell you Baby Boy? I got you.”

His hand is slightly calloused, but the residual lube mixed with the copious amount of precum I’d been leaking make for a smooth slide as he wraps around my cock, making me throw my head farther back into the pillows as he continues to fuck me into the mattress with a skill I’ve never known. 

“_I’m_-“ I can’t even _speak_ with the pleasure coursing through me. All I can do is beg and moan his name.

“Come on Baby, let go for me.”

He presses against my spot again, hand twisting just so at the base of my cock and it’s over for me, a loud scream of “_**Nikki**_!” echoing around the bedroom and I shoot all over his hand and my stomach.I feel like I’m floating as I cum, so many sensations flowing through my body and my veins white hot with pleasure as Nikki continues to pound inside me to the point of overstimulation.

**Jesus**. I haven’t cum like that in..._ever_, actually.

My hole tightens, clenching around his cock and he thrusts a few more times before releasing into the condom with a groan of my name, collapsing on top of me with a grunt.

He pulls out after a few deep breaths, and I lament the loss of fullness as he flops down on the mattress beside me, pulling my sweaty form to his side.

“That was fucking _spectacular_.” It was, and even as I fall asleep I can’t but feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake.

How am I supposed to forget _that_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I just had sex by the lonely island plays softly in the background*
> 
> Ngl I don’t usually write smut, so this was probably garbage because I rushed through this chapter.


	10. X-The morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys deal with the fallout of their first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty meh on this chapter tbh.

Nikki's POV

Waking up next to Tommy is one of the greatest things I think I've ever done.

I'd been the first to get up, blinking the sleep out of my eyes with a bleary confusion as I registered my surroundings- Not my room, too grey, too bland, too _tasteful_. There was the slightest weight on my chest, and I'd been about to just get up before memories of the night before flooded my mind: Tommy, kissing me in the kitchen, bringing me between his ridiculously long legs, Tommy, face down on the bed , whining and moaning as I tasted him, Tommy, on his back, begging for me and falling apart under my touch while I fucked him in this very bed, Tommy, Tommy, _Tommy_.

You wouldn't believe the smile that had crossed my face when I remembered, you'd never seen a man so _smug_.

I catch a mass of dark hair out of the corner of my eye and look down, Tommy's head is lying on my chest, bedsheets pooling around his waist. I already think he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, but there's something about his face while he's sleeping, something about how _peaceful_ and _open_ he looks as he doses away, like he finally has nothing to hide, that marks this in my mind as the best I think he's ever looked.

A snore escapes him, nose scrunching in his sleep. He's so fucking _adorable_.

Happy as I am that I'd finally gotten my hands on him, there's a creeping sense of confusion that fills my body as I stare down at him: What had _happened_ to him? He'd been almost _frantic_ when I'd arrived, not letting me talk, absolutely cutting into me when I tried to explain myself, and even though I could tell he had enjoyed our coupling, I'm not sure what had spurred him into such aggressive action. I'll be sure to ask him when he wakes up, because we _are_ going to talk today, whether he wants to or not.

I huff out a sigh and lean down to kiss his forehead. He looks so beautiful, so relaxed: I couldn't bare to wake him up with questioning, so I gently move his head from my chest, smile playing on my lips as he grunts and grumbles in his sleep, and extract myself from the bed as quietly as I can. My thoughts run away from me for a moment as I stand over his sleeping form: What would it be like to have this every day? To wake up next to Tommy after holding him in my arms all night? I wonder if he's usually a cuddler or if it's just something he does after particularly good sex.

I need to find my clothes first, because I'm pretty sure he won't be expecting a full frontal assault when he finally gets up, and I remember they're still on his kitchen floor.

Which gives me an idea.

I make my way out of the room as quietly as possible, looking back to get one last look at Tommy as I do; Yea, still the most beautiful thing on the damn _planet_. Retracing my steps back down the hall isn't much trouble, and I find the kitchen no problem, pulling on my pants as I finally get a good look at the place: The kitchen and the living room are just as grey, bland, and sterile as the bedroom. I see a bunch of weird antique figures, some loose files, a shelf full of books, and some pictures on the walls of Zutaut and what I can only assume is his family: Absolutely _nothing_ that signals Tommy even lives here at all. Not one photograph, nothing lying around that seems like it could even remotely belong to him; It's like he's a _guest_ in his own home.

I rummage through the shelves for pancake mix, smirk playing on my lips as I find an unopened box pushed to the back of the cupboard behind about a thousand boxes of cereal. There are blueberries in the fridge too, but I have to rummage through a jungle of leafy greens to find them. I remember what Tommy had told me at the diner about the diet Tom had him on and frown. Absolutely fucking _ridiculous_; There's something _off_ about this relationship, I can feel it in my bones. I think it's the way Tommy looks sometimes, eyes so sad and hopeless as he just accepts whatever comes his way, burying that sadness behind a mask of indifference. I've seen it since I've known him, how he's always putting himself down, trying to play himself off as unimportant or uninteresting- like I don't already think he's the most intriguing man I've ever met. Hell, he couldn't _believe_ I'd even want to hear about his life or buy him a gift.

I'll be sure to ask him about _that_ too. Because it's honestly a little fucking worrying.

I'm not much of a chef, but I know the basics, and I lose myself in the process of making breakfast, glancing over to the obnoxiously ugly grandfather clock to find it's already 2:30. Ok, a little late for brunch, but food's food.

I just hope he'll eat it.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Tommy's POV

The bed's empty when I wake up, and it's a blessing and a curse. It hurts a little, knowing I couldn't even get a _goodbye_ from Nikki after he spent all that time pursuing me, but in the end it's for the best. Last night had been too much, too _personal_, and the quicker we stop seeing each other, the quicker I'll lose my attraction to him.

I pull myself up to a sitting position, body pleasantly sore after the pounding I had endured last night. I hadn't expected him to care so much, to be so kind with me...I hadn't expected him to do that thing with his _mouth_ either. I wonder if I could convince Tom-

Nah. I won't even bother. He'll shoot it down because he won't be getting anything out of it. God if it wouldn't be nice to feel again though.

Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I gingerly stand, blanket still wrapped around my body. I wonder if the mail has come in yet, I don't want to miss any of Tom's packages if he'd ordered anything without telling me.

Well Lee, time to get back to life as you know it, you had your fun.

Opening the bedroom door, I make my way down the hall and into the living room, eyes widening in shock as I see someone moving around in the kitchen.

_Holy fuck, I'm being robbed. Tom is going to kill me if this guy doesn't._

I'm looking around for a blunt object when the figure turns around, and my heart stops when I realize it's Nikki. He smiles at me like this is absolutely normal, like he usually stays overnight at his one night stands houses to-what is he even _doing_? Is that Tom's good China? Are those _pancakes_? _What the fuck is even going on anymore?_

"Morning Baby Boy...well, afternoon actually. I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to wake you up myself."

"I-" I don't even know what to say. _What the hell is he still doing here?_

"I made you some pancakes. They're probably not that good but I remembered you liked them so-"

"_What are you still doing here?_"

His smile drops, eyes narrowing as I approach him. Is this another part of his game? Does he want a second round or something?

"I already told you Tommy, we're going to _talk_ today. Now sit down and eat your food." He turns back to the stove before I can even say a thing, and the authoritative ring to his voice makes me sink down into a chair, wincing softly as I do.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nikki's POV

He's quiet, eyes downcast, going through the motions of eating as I stare at him across the table. He hasn't said a word yet, and I'm waiting to see if he'll speak first. I want him too, want to know just what the hell's going on in that head of his, because it seems like even after last night he'd expected me to his to just up and leave him after we fucked, and if I haven't convinced him yet that I'm not, then I'm sure fucking about to.

"Do you like the pancakes?"

His head snaps up to look at me, and I can see confusion in his eyes.

"..._Yes?_"

"There aren't any wrong answers, Babe."

"They're good." Alright, cool.

"Did you like last night?"

"I did." Tommy's voice is almost a whisper, like he's _ashamed_ of the fact he'd enjoyed having sex with me, and I'm really not going to let him stew in mortification: Not when he'd looked so beautiful falling apart under my hands and on my cock.

"Do you like _me_?" That seems to startle him, fork dropping to the plate entirely with a clang. He opens his mouth to say something, but I continue on.

"Because I like you Tommy, I like you a lot actually, and it seems like you don't think that's true."

"I'm-"

"I'll admit it. At first, I really just wanted to fuck you, I mean, how could I not? You're fucking _gorgeous_, but after a while it became more than that for me, I got to see you- And I mean the _real_ you, not this marionette act you're playing with Tom; I like how excited you get talking about drums or records or comic books, I like how you sing along to my radio, I like how you're so fucking sassy when you want to be, and god help me I even liked that petty shit you pulled at the club, because that was kind of fucking hot." Tommy looks absolutely stunned, mouth still hanging open, so I continue on. "Now I'll admit, I don't know if I I'm in _love_ with you yet, and I'm _only_ saying that because we only met a few weeks ago because truth be told, I think you're the only kind of person someone like me could fall in love with, but I'm fucking _crazy_ into you Tommy, I think about you all the time, and I want to give us a shot. Give me until Tom comes back to convince you, and if you still only think I'm after sex, I'll leave you alone forever."

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Tommy's POV

Holy shit.

Holy.Fucking._**Shit**_.

If you had told me a month ago Nikki Sixx would be in my kitchen professing-well not _quite_ professing his love for me- I would have laughed in your face. But here he is, eyes open and honest as he finishes his impassioned plea.

I don't know what to fucking say, and I can tell my mouth is still open in shock as we stare at each other in silence. He wants me. He wants me, not just sex. This is a cruel joke, it has to be. There's no _way_ this is actually happening.

"You..._like_ me?"

"I really do."

"And you're not just after sex?"

"I mean I definitely wouldn't be _opposed_, but this is your show, baby." Jesus. It's true. He actually gives a fuck about me. I can't believe it.

"I think about you a lot, too." Why did I say that?

His smile returns, wide and ecstatic. I wish I could share my excitement so openly, but there's a roiling in my gut that tells me this is **wrong**.

"Hey. This is good news, what's that look for?"

"I have a boyfriend..."

"Nah babe. You have a benefactor."

What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean? Tom is my boyfriend. We've been together for almost a year now, he takes care of me better than anyone I've ever met has. He loves me and I love him, and I'm not sure where Nikki's getting the idea that our relationship is some kind of..._fraud_.

"I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that."

"But it's true, isn't it? I mean look around, where's all your stuff?" It's true, when I had moved in, Tom had taken a lot of my stuff to a storage unit because it clashed with his established aesthetic. What could I possibly have said though? He was being kind enough to let me live with him, and I wasn't going to throw his generosity back in his face in order to hang my posters up: He was kind enough to let me keep my Mötley Crüe one.

"I have stuff."

"Does he take you on dates?" Sure he does. Last week he bought me to a business meeting and let me sit in the lobby.

"Of course."

"Does he tell you he loves you?" He tells me I look pretty, and that means the same thing, doesn't it?

"All the time."

"Does he _fuck_ you like I do?" Jesus _Christ_ Sixx, what kind of question is that? Sex with Tom is...it's fine if I have time to get ready. He only hurts me sometimes now.

"Uh huh." He says in response to my silence. "Didn't think so. Dude's a fucking asshole, Tommy, he treats you like absolute _trash_, and that's another thing I'm going to spend these next two weeks showing you. But until then- I'll ask one more- _do you like me?_" He's pushing his chair back from the table, eyes sharp and predatory as he approaches me.

"All I need is a yes or a no. And I can make this _real_ good for you if you say yes.

Say yes Lee, because you know it's fucking true. You can sort out your guilt later. All I can manage is a low "_Yes_" before Nikki's pulling me out of my chair and kissing me with a fire that's starting to become familiar, tongue forcing it's way into my mouth as he lifts me onto the table. _Tom's going to kill me _I think deliriously as I hear the plate hit the floor, but a moan escapes my mouth as Nikki rips the blanket away from my body with a growl.

"Tell me what you want." God his voice sounds so _raw_, like he has to physically hold himself back from just taking me apart right here and now. Am I really doing this to him? Am I making him this crazy? His hard on against my thigh is a resounding _yes_.

"Would you-" **No**. I can't ask him to do that again. This should be about what _he_ likes too.

"_Hmm_?"

"N-nothing. Nevermind. Just fuck me again."

"What were you about to say?"

"It doesn't _matter_."

"_Tommy_." There's warning in his voice again, a low growl so utterly _sexy_ I find myself moving my hips in his direction unconsciously, head falling back as he runs his hand down my chest, tweaking a nipple as he trails my body.

"...Could you do that thing you did last night again?" I can't even look at Nikki when I say it, wishing for nothing else but the ground to open up and swallow me whole as his hand stops above my cock. My embarrassment only deepens when he laughs out, and I can feel my cheeks burning in humiliation.

"Jesus, nevermind then."

"Babe." He grasps my chin in his hand and turns me to face him. I'm taken aback by how warm his eyes are as he looks at me: As if I'm something precious and important. "If you want me to eat you out again, all you have to do is ask.

"Can you?"

"Can I _what_?"

"_Nikki_."

"_Tommy_."

A beat. And we stare at each other in silence, eyes daring one another to make a move. I break first, expelling a huff of irritated breath.

"...Will you _pretty please with a cherry on top_, eat me out again?"

"Well hell honey, all you had to do was ask!" He’s turning me over before I can even shout, hands spread wide over my hips, leaving me to brace myself on the table as he kneels down behind me.

His hands rest on my ass with an almost possessive grip, and I’m shocked to find how much I enjoy being putty in his hands. Nikki’s gentle as he spreads my cheeks, and I hear him exhale softly as he does, like _I’m_ something to be excited over.

I jump at the first wet lick, a sharp gasp escaping my throat as his grip tightens, fingers sinking into the soft skin in a way that is sure to leave marks imprinted. Another greedy stripe of his tongue has me yelping in astonished pleasure, and I hear him groan low behind me, sounding absolutely _hungry_ for me as he continues to lick around my hole. I’m mewling now, nails digging into the wood of the table as he thrusts his tongue inside me again, pressing past the tightened ring and licking at my walls like a man possessed. 

I reach back to tangle my fingers in his hair, desperately needing _something_ to anchor me to the earth as my body responds to the onslaught of pleasure Nikki’s putting me through. He pulls back to catch his breath, spit dripping down my thighs in a disgusting but exhilarating feeling, and a slick, wet sound fills my ears before I feel the blunt end of a finger rubbing against the rim of my hole.

“_Jesus_!” I cry out as two spit soaked fingers thrust into me, curling against my prostate almost immediately. It’s still shocking to me how much effort Nikki puts into making this so _good_ for me: I’ve never had a partner so dedicated to my pleasure. My fingers fall away from his hair as he thrusts his tongue in alongside his fingers, stretching me wide and making me scream louder into the table as he pulls my hips back to gain access to my cock and jerk me off in time to his thrusts.

“_Nikki_” My voice sounds absolutely _shattered_ to my own ears. I pray to god the neighbors are out, because him making me scream every time could be a problem.

“C’mon baby.” I hear his voice behind me, fingers still moving at a lightning fast pace, pounding my spot with abandon and making me cry out, shameless, into the table. “Cum for me.”

All I can do is obey, body shaking through the aftershocks as Nikki groans behind me. I’m drifting down that sea of pleasure again, body warm and boneless as Nikki rubs my thighs to help me down from my high. If it’s going to be like this every time with him, I’m not sure I’ll survive it.

“_Damn_.” He sounds real proud of himself as I catch my breath, turning myself around to face him on shaky legs. He’s still on his knees, and he places a soft kiss to my stomach as he strokes my hip. My brow furrows when I notice his pants are still on.

“Do you need me to-“

“No babe, it’s fine.” Well now I just feel guilty for making him pleasure me with no regards to his own satisfaction.

“I can suck you off if you want.” He _groans_ at that, forehead resting against my stomach and hands gripping my hips roughly.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how _awesome_ that sounds...but it’s already been taken care of.” My brows furrow at that. How could he have come already? His pants aren’t even-Oh.

**_Oh_**.

“_Nikki_.”

“_Shhh_.”

“_Did you_-“

“Yes.Yes I did. And I’m not ashamed of it either.”

It’s my turn to feel smug after that. How could I not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they’ve finally started conversation. They haven’t breached all the subjects they need to yet, but they’ve got two weeks to get their shit together.
> 
> Also Nikki likes eating Tommy out, pass it on.


	11. XI-Relocation and exasperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they’ve talked, Tommy and Nikki get the hell out of dodge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very much a filler chapter y’all. Like in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter at all, but I very much wanted to get something out today so here you go.

Nikki's POV

It occurs to me after I spend another night at Tommy's, him sated and wrapped up in my arms after I'd eaten him out again, that the apartment he shared with his boyfriend (with whom he has an obviously to _everyone_ but himself fucked up relationship with) may not be the best place to stage a long term seduction.

He's definitely more responsive to me now that he knows I'm not just hanging around with him for an easy bang; letting me kiss him softly and touch him whenever I want, but I can see the guilt in his eyes, the complete and utter conscious-striken _sadness_ when he looks at one of Tom's pictures or runs his hands over the antiques. This place is _suffocating_ Tommy, and I need to get him out of here before I lose him to his regrets.

I breach the subject over breakfast the next morning; having called Doc to tell him I was sick and wouldn't be able to make it into rehearsals. He'd chewed me out something fierce, but the knowledge that I had Tommy laying in bed asleep with that angelic look on his face was enough to keep me from telling my manager to go fuck himself.

"_So._" I start, keeping my voice as neutral as possible and Tommy looks up from his pancakes- and let me tell you, that diet shit was for the birds, because Tommy can put away food like it's nothing. "I've been thinking."

"_Ouch_ Nikki. Did it hurt?" _Oh that little-_

"Someone's feeling _sassy_ this morning." I've found out that Tommy's at his realest when he first wakes up: He hasn't had time to put on the mask of the demure little shrinking violet Tom'd forced him into and it's an excellent glimpse into that _real_ Tommy I'm slowly coming to adore. I'm not even mad about it, in fact I welcome it; A sassy Tommy is a Tommy that doesn't have his guard up, a sassy Tommy is a Tommy that knows he doesn't have to worry about me snapping at him over unimportant shit, a sassy Tommy is just kind of _sexy_.

He smiles bright, shoving another syrup drenched slice into his mouth, and I lose myself for a moment staring at his lips . I had turned down his offer of a blowjob before, but now I can't get the thought of that mouth around my cock out of my head. I wonder for a moment if he likes getting his hair pulled, if he'd moan and whine around my length as I hit the back of his throat over and over, using his hair to make him take more of me down, if he'd swallow when I-

"Nikki?" Tommy's lowering his fork now, humor filing out of his eyes as he looks at me, and I realize I've been staring at him in my horny daze. He's got that guarded look on his face again, like he's expecting me to start shouting at him. Good fuckingjob, Sixx. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't do _anything_ wrong baby. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to come to my place with me until... _he_ gets back."

That pretty little head of his tilts in confusion at my question. "You don't want to stay here?" Nope. And I don't want _you_ here either. This isn't your scene, Baby Boy, it's bleeding you dry.

"The place is..._fine_." It isn't. It's bland and boring and Tommy hates it as much as I do. "But I'm getting kind of homesick, I don't have any clothes, and I don't want to leave you here while I'm trying to woo you." That brings the smile back to his face.

"Woo me? Is this a fairy tale?" Tommy would be an excellent princess. Hey, that's a new name for him- _princess_. I wonder if he'd like it.

"As long as I'm your knight in shining armor."

"Oh _gross_. That was so cheesy."

"I'm saying though, wouldn't it be fair for you to see my place now that I've seen yours? To be completely honest with you if you told me you wanted to put a tent out on the highway be stay there I'd probably set the damn thing up for you." A little dramatic? Sure, but it's true. "We can do a night here and a night there if that'd make you happy." I can see I'm winning him over, and a contemplative look washes over his face.

"...That sounds alright. I guess we can do that." Fuck yea. Now I just have to make things so awesome at my place he doesn't want to come back to this shithole. It takes all the self control I have not to jump onto the table and pump my fists like an absolute loon. Tommy's coming to my place.

Oh _fuck_. My place is an absolute wreck right now.

"I'll get dressed and we can go."

I wonder if I can pass it off as someone ransacking the place while I was gone.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I'd convinced Tommy to bring an overnight bag, and laughed like a moron as he smuggled me out of the apartment. I don't know if these "nosy neighbors" he's always worried about work for the CIA or FBI or The Mafia or are on Zutaut's payroll or _what_, but they've put the fear of god into him in a way that seems almost exaggeratedly paranoid. I didn't say anything though, just kept my head down with a smirk on my face as we'd sped through the lobby like a pair of criminals.

He'd sang in my car again, voice sounding nice as ever, and I'd watched out of the corner of my eye with great interest as he'd belted out the entirety of Aqualung. I wonder if he'd considered continuing music career after his band broke up before Tom had come in like a dictator and told him he couldn't. My mood darkens at the thought of Zutaut; Tommy's jumpiness and general attitude was a _major_ red flag to me about their relationship, and the fact that I don't know any details besides what Tommy had let slip to me was majorly concerning because what he'd let slip was _not_ good. Even if I can't convince Tommy to be with me in the two weeks we have together, I want him to at _least_ see Tom is no good for him. He deserves better that what he's being given, I can tell that much.

I'd bought the house after the tour with Ozzy, and sure, maybe it's a little big for one person, and maybe I had spent a little much, but damn it, it's mine, it's one of the few things in my life that's ever really been _mine_, and I'm damn proud of it because I worked my ass off to get it.

Tommy's eyes widen when we pull up, and I can't help the shot of pride that fills my chest at his shocked expression.

"_Damn_."

"D'ya like it?" Hell yeah he does, and I’m glad for it- It’ll be easier to convince him to stay if he does.

“_Jesus_.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

His mouth is still open in a perfect little _o_, and that certainly doesn’t help my blowjob fantasy from earlier. I grab his bag out of the backseat, gently shushing him when he protests and tries to go for it himself. He’s still looking around in wonder when I unlock the front door and lead him inside, my hand on the small of his back to guide him.

“Babe, can I get a statement? Are you still lucid?”

“I feel like little orphan Annie.” There’s open awe in his voice as he looks around, and I can’t help but laugh. Tommy is just the cutest, sexiest, most perfect man in the world.

“Wait until you see the pool” His eyes _glow_ at that, and he looks for all the world like a kid who just got let loose in a candy store.

“Careful Sixx, you may never get rid of me.”

Oh Babe, I’m _counting_ on it.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

The rest of the day is spent giving him the grand tour while simultaneously imagining fucking him in every room of the place. He’s just so _excited_ by everything, running his hands over anything he can touch, and his happiness fills my chest with a warm, fuzzy feeling. I _want_ Tommy to know where everything is in the house because I want this to be where he spends the next two weeks.

Or months.

Years even.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

We stop to eat, sitting on the floor in front of the fridge and chowing down on cold leftover pizza like a pair of uncouth savages. Tommy doesn’t seem to care about the lack of a private chef, smiling happily and chugging straight out of a bottle of Vodka like an absolute champ- and honestly, I think that’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen him do. It was just damn impressive for such a skinny guy to hold his liquor so well. I wonder when he started drinking; I’d tasted liquor on his breath when he jumped me that first night, but Tom doesn’t seem like the type of guy that’d let his boyfriend run around wasted out of his mind.

Tommy stares at me over the top of the bottle, and I hold his eye contact as a challenge.

“You still haven’t shown me your guest room.”

Wait a minute. Hold the fuck on. **_Guest room?_**

“And why, darling.” I start, keeping my voice as neutral as possible as he continues to wrap his lips-his _soft, pretty_ lips- around the mouth of the vodka bottle. “Would I show you the guest room when I have a perfectly good, perfectly _huge_ bed of my own for us to sleep in?”

He smiles at me like I’m an idiot.

“Because, _darling_.” Sassy Tommy has made his return, and I feel a growl threatening to bubble its way to the surface as he stares at me under his lashes, eyes heavy with humor and something else entirely. “You’re supposed to be convincing me to give you a shot. I know-and I think you do too, which is why you’re trying to get me into your room- that if I do room with you, we’ll spend the entire time having crazy wild sex.”

“That sounds great to me.” Honestly. Was that supposed to be a _deterrent_?

“And we won’t _resolve_ anything Nikki.”

“I thought we’d resolved things already.”

“We definitely made a good start.” I’m pleased to hear that. “But let’s be real here; we don’t _know_ each other that well. We like having sex, and we have what we can tentatively call the _beginnings_ of feelings for each other in some ways, but we don’t _know_ each other. And if we go get in bed together, we probably won’t move for the next two weeks.”

I hate to admit it, but he makes a good fucking point. God damn it is my baby smart.

But as smart as he is, I am _desperate_. I’d had a _taste_ of waking up with Tommy in my arms, and I wasn’t ready to give that up so soon. Not without a fight.

“Ok...you make a strong argument, and I can definitely see where you’re coming from- but I have an idea that can get us both what we want: You, time to get to know each other, and me...well, you in my bed every night.” He turns his head bashfully, smile playing on his face.

“Shoot.”

“No guest room, but if anything sexual goes on, it’ll be because you initiated it.”

I can tell I have him intrigued when he looks towards me. “What do you mean.”

“Exactly what I said; I won’t touch you unless you ask me explicitly. You control the pace here.” I want Tommy as comfortable as possible around me, want him to know that I would _never_ try to force him into anything. I want him to trust me, and letting him be in charge of any sexual encounters we could have is a great way to earn that trust. His eyes widen at my proposal, and it’s vaguely worrying that he’s so _surprised_ I’m interested in how he feels about us having sex. In all honesty, if Tommy decided he never wanted to fuck me again after the epic night we had, I’d be totally fine with that if it meant he’d stick around in some way.

“I think that could work, but if I feel like we’ve just turned into complete lust goblins, I’ll be in that guest room so fast your head’ll spin.”

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

He’d flopped down on my bed as soon as I got him upstairs, arms spread wide like he was making a snow angel in the sheets, and I stared down at the adorable sight with a bemused grin on my face.

“I really hope you don’t sleep like that, I need to get in the bed too.”

“Sleep on the floor then.”

“I’ll sleep on _you_ if you’re not careful.” Well that just didn’t make any damn sense, now did it?

“...What’s that even _mean_, Nikki?”

“Fuck if I know, Baby Boy.” He stares at me for a moment before he’s bursting into laughter, and the sight of him so obnoxiously _happy_ makes my heart swell and my cock twitch, the usual effect Tommy has on me.

Down boy, no initiating. We made a **deal**.

His laughter stops after a moment, damn tipsy little thing, and he props himself up on his elbows to look at me from the bed. I stand stock still as his foot comes up, the end of his sneaker rubbing over my thigh and then higher up until it’s gently grazing over my-

“_What are you doing?_” My voice is strained, but I don’t move.

“_Not initiating_.” God damn it all to hell. His foot falls away, and he shifts so he’s off the bed, turning his body so he’s on his knees on the floor while I’m standing before him.

I jump when his hands go for my belt, and I watch, eyes wide as he begins to undo my pants.

“_Tommy_.”

He ignores me, and it feels like an out of body experience when my belt hits the floor, button and zipper giving way to Tommy’s soft hands and long fingers. I can’t believe this is happening, but he’s tugging my pants down, smiling when he sees I’m not wearing any underwear.

“_Tommy_.”

“_Shhh_.” He has the nerve to look up at me in annoyance, as if I’m interrupting some kind of scientific discovery and not trying to stop myself from spontaneously combusting. I’ve hardened under his ministrations, because how could I _not_ get hard with Tommy anywhere near my dick? And the wicked smirk that crosses his face is going to be wet dream material until the day I croak.

“Wow. Look at _him_.” He’s lowering his head, and the shock of his breath over the sensitive head makes me jolt on my feet. “Nikki Jr looks mighty happy to see me.”

Well _Nikki Sr_ is about to have a heart attack.

I almost lose it when Tommy’s hand comes up to pump my cock, teeth gritting as I resist the urge to thrust forward into his touch: This is his show, he sets the pace.

The first touch of his tongue is a slow, unhurried lick from base to tip, and I barely have time to gasp out a quick _fuck! _before he’s taking me all the way down his throat with no effort at all, damn near knocking me off my feet as he runs his tongue along my shaft.

I’m going to die. And I’m _totally_ ok with that.

He works his way back to the head slowly, inch by glorious inch, staring directly into my eyes as he comes up with a slick _pop_.

“You regretting not letting me stay in the guest room now?” _Oh you petty mother-_

“_**Shit**_!” I stare down at him, biting my lip so hard I can taste blood, completely entranced as he moves his mouth up and down my cock, pace quickening as my hands clench at my sides. I want to touch him so badly, but I promised him I wouldn’t unless he asked. My head is thrown back as his throat tightens around me, tongue swirling around my tip before he forces himself back down on my cock, head bobbing with increasing speed.

“Holy _fuck_, babe.”

He brings his head back again, sucking in a harsh breath as he starts to jerk my cock. His lips are red and swollen, his face is flushed, and there’s lines of saliva trailing from his lips.

He’s never looked more beautiful to me.

“Nik?” It’s crazy how powerful one person can look even on their knees, and he holds my eye contact like an absolute _devil_.

“Yea Tommy?” My voice is shaking.

“_I’m initiating now_.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice, my hand tangles roughly in his hair as I force his head down again. Tommy takes me like a champ though, moaning around my cock and sending vibrations throughout my entire body. I groan as I thrust my hips against his face, eyes never leaving his as I slide in and out of his mouth, completely fucking losing myself in the feeling of his hot, wet, mouth. A smirk crosses my face as I hear him gag, and I pull him off for air, listening to his harsh breathing with a sick sense of satisfaction. He sounds absolutely wrecked.

“You ok, Baby?” As much as I’m enjoying myself, the last thing I want to do is hurt Tommy, but he looks at me like I’m insane for even daring to ask the question.

“I feel..._really good actually_. Do you mind doing that some more?” He sounds almost demure, which is an amusing switch from the sexiness of earlier. That shyness makes me want to wreck him even more.

I resume my harsh pace without anymore encouragement, hand tugging at his curls in a way that _must_ be painful but he seems to love as his moans increase in volume around me. The noises in the room are absolutely _obscene_, from the suction of his mouth, to his moans and my grunting and cursing, and even though I can feel the orgasm building up in the pit of my stomach, I’m not going to come without getting to watch Tommy first.

“Jack off for me baby, I need to see you cum for me.” He whines around my dick, forcing my thrusts to stutter in momentum, but does as I ask, lowering his pants to wrap around his hard, leaking length.

“God Tommy, you are so fucking _perfect_.” We manage to come at practically the same time, me holding his head around my pulsing cock to make him swallow, and him exploding all over his hand and the floor.

There are tears in the corners of his eyes when I pull out, and I feel guilty as hell before he brings his hand up to lick the cum off his fingers.

Good god. I think I want to marry him.

“_Thank you_.” His voice is rough from my harsh treatment, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Nosweetheart, thank _you_! I think that was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten.” Tommy beams at the praise, and I run a thumb over his swollen lip. I reach down to help him up, soothing my hand over his head as I strip him and lay him down in the bed, curling him into my arms.

“I have to go to rehearsal tomorrow, I’ve been calling in sick for days now.” He pouts at this, and a sudden bolt of genius strikes me.

“Come with me.”

“To your rehearsal? I don’t think I should.”

“Am I going to have to beg?” I wouldn’t mind begging Tommy.

“No. I just don’t know why you’d want me there.” Oh darling, can’t you see I want you around all time time?

“Moral support?” It’s a flimsy excuse, but he’s too tired to argue.

“Yea sure, I guess I can go just this once.” And he’s out like a light before I can even respond. I press a kiss to his forehead as he starts to snore, lids feeling heavy.

I think we’re on the right track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Nikki likes to eat Tommy out and Tommy likes to get face fucked. What a crazy pair of kids lmao


	12. XII-Cut to the feeling (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Nikki go to rehearsal and some stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t care much for this chapter, but here it is.

Tommy's POV

My first morning in Nikki's place wasn't as pleasant as I would have hoped; Don't get me wrong, waking up to see him groggily lifting his head from the pillows with a sleepy expression on his face had been absolutely _adorable_, but his alarm clock sounds like a nuclear bomb going off, and I usually like to sleep past 8:00 if I don't have to get up and make breakfast for Tom.

Tom. Jesus, I've been so distracted with Nikki I haven't even thought about him, haven't even thought about my _boyfriend_.

Am I a bad person for what I'm doing? Am I just a completely irredeemable piece of shit for cheating on my boyfriend? When I'd started this thing with Nikki, I'd assumed he'd only want one night and then we'd go our separate ways forever, but now things are getting real- _really_ fucking real, and truth be told I'm feeling conflicted. Tommy's been taking care of me since I met him, and even though our relationship has hit a rough patch, he's still the first man I've ever loved. Will I really be prepared to just..._walk away_ from that after two weeks with a man I barely know?

Nikki though, I can't wrap my head around him: He'd been so _open_ when he'd given me his little speech, eyes sincere as I'd ever seen them as he toldme he wanted to give us a shot. I believe him now, but it's still so shocking to me that he's so passionately attached to me already, and every kind word and soft look stirs up a feeling in my gut I can't name; In the short time we've been together, he's given me _every_ kind of rush you can imagine, and I'm not sure how to feel. It's all so _new_, and the connection between us is so _intense_ even though we only met a few weeks ago.

"_Oh god damn it._"

Well. That's not exactly what I wanted him to say when he looked at me. I know I always look _wild_ in the mornings- it's one of the reasons I like to wake up before Tom; I don't want him to think I'm _ugly_ or something, but jeez, do I look _that_ bad?

"We've got to get up babe, Doc will _actually_ murder me if I skip another rehearsal." Oh right, I'd promised Nikki I'd go to the studio with him. "But first-" I sputter indignantly when he flops down on top of me, pressing his lips to mine in a swift kiss that leaves me pushing his shoulders away.

"Morning breath Nikki, _Christ_!- And what happened to _me_ initiating?"

"That's for _sex_, Tommy, and like I _care_ about your morning breath, shut up and let me kiss you."Well that's technically true, kisses aren't _always_ sexual, and I do want to kiss Nikki. I pull him down by his hair with an exaggerated sigh, and the second his lips touch mine again I can feel the room heating up.

Needless to say, we don't get out of bed for the first alarm.

Or the second.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I've been to studios before, usually with Tom if he feels like I've been good enough at home for a road trip. He knows I'm interested in music, and even if he doesn't want me doing it _professionally_, he still likes to reward me for good behavior by letting me listen to demos and telling me about the bands he produces for.

This place, however, is empty.

"So..." I start off, looking at Nikki and desperately trying not to laugh at his confused look. "Where's your band, Sixx?"

"That _fucker_."

"Who? Who's a fucker?"

"**_Doc_**!" Now I feel just as confused as he looks, what is it with the men in my life and constantly talking about Doc?"He did it again!"

"I'm am _so_ fucking lost right now."

Nikki lets out an exasperated groan, throwing his head back and slapping his hands over his face. "So I'll admit it, maybe I show up to rehearsal a _little_ late sometimes and Doc gets pissed off." Alright. "He's started telling me rehearsal's earlier than it is so I show up before everyone else; he doesn't do it every time, because he knows I'll catch on, but he fucking _got_ me this time."

That's...that's actually pretty damn hilarious, and also kind of genius. I can't even hold in my laughter at Nikki's utterly _miserable_ expression, giggles escaping my lips at his outer despair. "Oh my god. That's probably the funniest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"Well I'm glad you think this is funny." Aww, he looks so put out standing there, arms crossed, pout forming on his face. I wrap my arms around his neck, still smiling wide as he continues to glare at the booth like it had personally offended him.

"It's not that bad."

"It's bullshit and I hate him." I laugh again, I just can't contain myself when he looks so pouty and cute, and I can see his frown faltering as I continue to snicker.

"It's _not_ funny."

"It _really_ is." I'm about to tell him just how funny it is before he grabs my hips to pull me into another kiss. Kissing Nikki is like a raging fire every time, a fire that licks across my skin and sends my heart soaring with every swipe of his tongue and bite to my lips. A whine escapes me when he pulls back, and he smirks at my lidded gaze, smug and self-satisfied.

"Well since no one else is here, I'm going to go hunt down some food since _someone_ distracted me and I didn't get to make us anything to eat."

"_I_ distracted _you_?"

"Always. Do you want to come with me or do you want to wait here? It'll probably be another hour before the rest of the guys show up so I'd be back before then if you want to wait." I consider my options; if I go with Nikki, we'll probably end up in the backseat and he'll _really_ miss rehearsal, but if I stay here by myself, I'll have a much-needed chance to reflect on the things I've been trying not to think about; Mainly me and Tom.

And what happens when he gets back.

"I'll just wait here if it's alright with you."

He presses another kiss to my lips, softer this time, and takes my face in his hands gently like I'm some sort of valuable artifact, thumb running over my cheek. "I'll miss you."

"You'll be gone for like five minutes you _sap_."

"To be fair, five minutes away from you is like an eternity to me." My breath catches in my throat, I can't even help it- How can I when he just says things like that so _casually_?

"I'll see you in a little bit, Alright babe?" All I can do is nod, eyes fluttering shut as Nikki presses one last kiss to my forehead and walks out of the room without a backwards glance.

_Christ_.

I fall into one of the chairs in a daze, fingers running over the knobs on the audio mixing console absentmindedly. Nikki had told me it was too early for him to say he was in _love_ with me, but the way he looks at me sometimes is just- I don't know how to describe it: He looks at me like I'm the answer to some important question, like I'm something _special_ to him, and I honestly can't remember the last time Tom looked at me with something other than varying degrees of annoyance. I really do believe Nikki wants to give us a chance, but a small, _stupid_ part of me is still a little withdrawn from him, and I know he can see how apprehensive I am, can see that little bit of me that's still scared I'm just a _passing fancy_ in his eyes, and he's doing everything he can to make me see that's not true.

I want to give us a chance too, but there's so much going on in my head I can't even think straight when the subject of actually having a relationship with Nikki comes up. This two weeks is our trial period, sure- but what the **_fuck_** do we do after that?

I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't even hear the door open, and I fucking jump out of my skin when "Who the _fuck_ are you?" rings through the room.

"_Fuck!_"

It's Vince, holy shit. I'm not going to fucking fanboy over one of Nikki's band members because that would be decidedly _uncool_, so I do my best to clear my throat and shake the star struck look off of my face.

"Tommy Lee? We met at the show a few weeks ago?"

The blonde blinks at me in confusion for a moment, staring me up and down before remembrance blossoms in his eyes. "Oh right, Nikki pretty much threw you over his shoulders like a caveman and we didn't get to talk. I can't believe I didn't recognize that pretty face of yours."

"Yea that was a crazy nigh-"

Wait _what_? Did he just call me **pretty**?

"Did he bring you here?"

"Uh-yea,yea he did."

"So you two are friends?" _Friends_. That seems like a really simplistic title considering how fucking emotionally wrecked this whole thing has left me; But we _are_ friends, aren't we? We haven't put a label on anything yet, and Tom is still technically my _actual_ boyfriend.

"Yea, you could say that." I don't know how open Nikki is with the band, and I don't want to be the one to tell them about our..._thing_ if he isn't comfortable with them knowing.

"That's cool...so you're single?" Oh no. Not in any way shape or _form_ am I single. My confusion is slowly fading away into absolute hysteria; _He's hitting on me._ Vince fucking Neil is hitting on me. Am I just catnip to the band or something? I just need Mick and the drummer to make a move and I'll be 4/4. This has to be a record on the strip somewhere, and I should get a fucking shirt for it; _The lead singer and Bassist of Mötley Crüe are both into me._

"_Jesus_ man, that depends who you're asking." If you ask Tom, he'll definitely say no. But if you ask Nikki- well, shit, part of the problem is I don't know _what_ Nikki would say. I'm laughing again, and he's still staring at me with that thinly veiled interest. This may be a problem somewhere down the line if me and Nikki's thing goes anywhere, but right now I can't believe it's even _happening_.

"That's a fucking _weird_ answer."

"Maybe I'm a _weird_ person."

He leans against the desk next to me, the very picture of effortless cool, and I wonder for a moment if he usually hits on people he thinks are Nikki's "_friends_."

"I wouldn't mind finding that out." _Aaaand_ his hand's brushing against mine. Why is this happening to me?

"_Oh my god_." I fall back into my seat, free hand coming up to cover my face as I continue to laugh; What's the word for when you're simultaneously mortified and absolutely amused at the same time? Because that's _totally_ how I feel right now.

I'm about to tell him to stop when Nikki comes back in, a bag of chips in his hand and a sheepish look on his face. He pauses at the door, taking in Vince's posture and demeanor and my flushed face and grin, and I see his eyes grow stormy as I'm sure he _completely_ misinterprets the situation at hand.

"You were gone for that long and all you came back with were chips?" I'm not even worried about Vince. I mean, he's _fine_, and I’m _flattered_, but he's not _Nikki_.

Nikki doesn't let up glaring at Vince, who's completely ignoring him. "Well I wanted a burger but it's too fucking early and nobody's serving lunch yet."

"What kind of chips are they?" Vince. Please read the room and _shut up._

"Not fucking for you, that's what kind they are."

"No need to curse in front of a guest, Nikki."

"I like chips." I interrupt, cutting through the tension like light through fog, finally pushing Vince's hand off of me and grabbing the ruffles out of Nikki's grip. These two are fucking unbelievable, holy shit.

"Mick's on his way." Vince says casually, reaching into the bag. "Says he's bringing Coulson since his car got towed last night."

Oh damn. I almost forgot about those two. Maybe because they haven't hit on me yet.

Small blessings. Nikki catches my eyes as I eat, and I can see a hint of confusion in his eyes as he glances back at the blonde and then to me again.

_He's just fucking around. _I mouth to him, trying to keep him calm, and while his tense posture doesn't lessen, he looks a lot less pissed off.

I'm sure I'm going to catch hell when we get back to his place, I can tell. Tom doesn't like to yell at me in public either.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Crazy as it sounds, watching Crüe practice is just as fucking wild as watching them live. They keep that same chaotic rock'n'roll energy they have on stage and channel it into the booth like it's absolutely no problem at all.

Doc had been a little surprised to see me, probably because he only knew me as Zutaut's _friend_ who just so happened to live with him, but he hadn't cared I was there as long as I kept quiet and didn't touch anything. I hadn't had a problem with that; sitting still and looking pretty is basically part of my job description.

Everyone’s doing a great job: Vince sounds fantastic, Mick is perfect as usual, Nikki is a fucking god on bass. Everything is _awesome_.

Except, of course-

“_Coulson_” Doc cuts them off, lowering one of the knobs so the music fades out. “Maybe try to keep up a little?”

“Not my fault dude! Mick’s going too fast.” Oh Jesus is this guy _serious_? Mick looks like he’s about to fucking choke him out.

“We’ve already slowed the tempo down so you can keep up.” Nikki speaks up now, rolling his eyes at Coulson’s excuses. Where the hell did they _find_ this guy anyways? He’s not the _worst_ drummer I’ve ever heard, but he’s no match for the rest of the band. Shoving another handful of chips in my mouth to keep from speaking out, I watch the argument with growing interest.

“And you’re still doing that thing with the fucking snare.” Oh. So Nikki had been listening to my criticism. That’s nice to know.

“It’s not my fault I can’t hit every beat every time. No one can do that.”

“Like it’s _that_ fucking hard.” Everyone’s staring at me now. Oh god, did I say that out loud?

“Who the fuck even are you?” Oh great, the drummers feeling pissy now.

“Careful dude.” Nikki defending me just brings this warm, fuzzy feeling into my chest, but Coulson ignores him to glare at me from behind the glass.

“If you think it’s so fucking _easy_, why don’t you get in here and show me how to do my fucking job.” I’m pushing back from the desk before I can even stop myself, not even registering Doc’s protests as I enter the boot and approach the kit.

“Get up and move then, dickhead.” He hands me the drumsticks with a smirk on his face before going to sit next to Doc, like he’s just expecting me to completely _bomb_ this.

Well prepare to be disappointed, asshole. This is _my_ element. Nikki looks at me with apprehension in his eyes, and I can see that Mick and Vince are confused as all hell, but I nod at him, and that’s enough for him to ask Doc to turn the music back on.

I take a deep breath before the first fill comes in; I’m confident in my ability, but I haven’t actually drummed in a while, not since before I met Tom. Well, no turning back now.

I lose myself in the music, timing my beats to Nikki’s bass as Vince belts out the lyrics to Live Wire. God have I missed this, the rush of adrenaline I always felt during a performance is present even now, and I completely forget that we’re only at a rehearsal.

I’m so lost, in fact, I don’t even notice when Vince stops singing, or Nikki and Mick stop playing. I’m still beating at the kit when my eyes open and I notice everyone staring at me with varying degrees of shock.

I trail off, drumstick falling out of my hand as Mick lets out a quiet “_Damn_.”

“So uh, yea.” I speak after another moment of silence, feeling my face heat up and a rush to my groin as Nikki stares at me with an unmistakable _want_ in his eyes. “It’s uh- not that fucking hard if you know what you’re doing. Just don’t...be _slow_ I guess.”

Vince is next to speak, turning to look at Coulson. “Can you just fucking do _that_ next time?.”

“I can’t fucking do _that_! Nobody can do _that_!” Am I a bad person for finding the look of complete and utter astonishment on his face funny? Because he looks like he just saw me walk on water and it’s cathartic after all the shit he’d talked to me earlier.

“If the fucking _teenager_ can do it, your grown ass can.” Mick says, looking utterly annoyed at the proceedings but staring at me with suspicion.

“I think we’ve had enough for today.” Nikki says, eyes still blazing at he looks at me. “We can try again later.”

“We’ve been here for _two hours_.” Doc says, exasperated.

“And I’m ready to leave. See you guys later.” He’s setting his bass down and pulling me out of the booth by my arm before I can even speak. The sound of a “_Bye, Tommy_!” from Vince the last thing I hear before the door slams.

I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get back to Nikki’s, but I’m both scared and excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy: Drums  
Nikki: Alright see y’all later I’m about to go fuck my man into the nearest flat surface... after I get his express permission to do so.


	13. XIII-Cut to the feeling (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Nikki get home after rehearsal and definitely don’t fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just more poorly written smut/filler tbh

Nikki's POV

It's a struggle not to jump Tommy as soon as I get him out of the studio. A struggle not to just push him down in the backseat, get his clothes off, and absolutely _wreck_ him right there in the parking lot. I hold out though, not only because Tommy deserves to be treated like a princess and fucked on a bed like the precious thing he is- but because I'd meant what I said when I told him I wasn't going to touch him unless he asked me for it.

The car ride home is silent, Tommy sinking into the passengers seat like he's trying to disappear and me holding onto the steering wheel so tight my knuckles go white as I resist every urge to pull over on the side of the road and just take what I need from him. I know I joke about everything Tommy doing getting me hard, but I can't believe the simple sight of just him _drumming_ had turned me on so much. It had been the way he looked behind the kit, eyes closed in concentration, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he kept time with me that had _really_ got me going, it just reminded me so much of how good he always looks when I'm fucking him just the way he likes it.

We're quiet when I pull into the driveway and quiet when I unlock the front door to let us both in. Tommy's looking at his feet, but I can see he's got that look on his face again, that nervous look he always gets when he's expecting me to fly off the handle and the last thing I want him to feel right now is apprehension.

"Tommy." Gripping his chin softly, I turn his head to mine. The look in his eyes is guarded, and I pull him close to me, letting his chin go to curl my fingers over his hips in a tight grasp. "That was fucking _hot_ babe."

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Tommy's POV

I'd been expecting a lot: For him to blame me for Vince's flirting and tell me to leave, or be angry that I'd insulted his drummer and disrupted his practice. I'd expected screaming and lecturing and heartbreaking _disappointment_, and thought his silence in the car was the precursor to an epic rant as it always was with Tom- but what I hadn't expected was the _lust_ in his eyes, hadn't expected him to grip my hips so possessively.

Hadn't expected him to think my drumming was _hot_.

"W-What?" I'm confused, but how could I not be? I've never had _anyone_ think me playing the drums was something to get this worked up about- in fact, it usually had the opposite effect. "You're joking."

"Fuck Baby Boy." Nikki groans, shaking his head. "Not even a little bit. Seeing you behind that kit was just...it was just _unbelievable_." His head falls forward as he buries his face into my neck, and the feeling of his hard on pressed against my thigh sends a shock of desire coursing through my veins: I don't know if Nikki _normally_ gets off to people playing instruments, but I can't even find it in myself to care at this point.

A kiss to my neck makes me shudder, and I feel hot breath on my ear before he growls out "Please baby, _please_ tell me I can have you."

I don't think I'll ever get used to this, being wanted so badly. Whenever Tom wants me, it's usually because he's bored, because or he got angry at work and wants to work out some frustration. With Nikki though, it's completely different: His desire is all-encompassing; it gathers me in its grasp and doesn't let go until I'm shaking and spent, it's roughness and gentle touches rolled into one, it lays me on my back and makes me _scream_ his name until my voice is raw and ruined.

It's a powerful want, and sometimes the strength of his passion frightens me in its intensity- but at the same time I relish in his ardor, soak it up greedily any time it's directed at me.It's that same greed that has me arching into his body, neck lolling back as he traces fiery kisses across my jawline and begs- _begs_ for me to allow him access to my body.

It's an power-trip and an ego boost. I hold all the power here even if I'm the one who gets fucked in the end. I could say no, leave him here at the bottom of the stairs and go get off in private and there wouldn't be a damn thing Nikki could do about it because that would mean he'd be breaking our deal and losing my trust. It's definitely a head rush, knowing how much he wants this and how easily I could deny him his release.

I'm not going to though, because truth be told, I'm just as desperate for him as he is for me. Nikki always takes care of me in bed, always fucks me like it's the last time he'll ever touch me and always makes sure I cum first. Every.Damn.Time. Never in my _life_ have I had a lover so dedicated to making me feel like my soul is going to leave my body with every orgasm, and he always keeps me wanting more.

Like now, for instance. Just thinking about sex with him has me _hot_.

Twisting my fingers into his hair, I pull his head away from my jaw and smash our lips together roughly, teeth clacking together with the force of our kiss. His grip on me is almost painful now, and I moan out as he breaks away to sink his teeth into the spot where my neck meets my collarbone, running his tongue over the skin to soothe the pain.

“You want me? Go ahead, _I’m all yours_.”

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nikki’s POV

His confirmation, his _approval_ is all I need, and I’m pulling us up the stairs to my room before I know it. It takes us longer than I would have liked to get there, because it seemed like every two seconds we’d stop to kiss or grab each other, and for a moment I’d considered just throwing Tommy down and fucking him on the steps before realizing how uncomfortable that would be.

I throw open the door with force, lust and want heating up my body as I press my lips against Tommy’s, forcing my tongue down his throat as he curls desperately against my body. He’s so hot, he makes _me_ so hot.

We strip each other of our clothes and fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, me pressing kisses into his chest as he throws his head back against the pillows and whines for me so prettily. Every noise he makes me yearn for him, anticipation clouding my senses. I swear just him moaning like this could get me off, but that would be both anti-climactic and embarrassing as hell.

I flip Tommy over onto his stomach, surging up to suck a bruise into his shoulder, and he huffs out another breathy moan into the pillows when I run my hands over his ass. I want nothing more than to just plunge into him now and watch him fall apart under me, but he deserves better than selfish hands on him: He deserves to feel _just_ as good as I do.

Reaching over him to open my bedside table, I smirk at the sharp inhale Tommy releases when I pull out the lube and a condom. I can’t wait to see him sweaty and broken under me; the feeling of lust in the room is almost stifling, and we’re both suffocating happily in its wake.

I can’t help but slap his ass, grabbing the jiggling cheek as he gasps and arches into the sheets. My palm stings slightly from the action and the wicked grin on my face doesn’t let up as I uncap the lube and coat my fingers, plunging them into his hole without warning and relishing in his muffled moan.

“You like that, Baby Boy?” My voice sounds rough even to my own ears, fingers pumping and curling into Tommy’s helpless form as he thrusts against my sheets and moans out into the air. This is good, but I want to hear him _scream_ for me.

I angle my fingers, his hips rocking back against my hand as I crook and curl my digits against his walls, smiling like an absolute maniac when I see his body tense up and feel his hole clench greedily around me.

“Fuck Nikki! Right there!” It’s music to my ears every time he begs for me, and now is no exception. I press harder against his spot, watching with interest as Tommy drops his head back into the pillows with a muted sob, cock hard and leaking under his body. Everything about him right now is perfect, _he’s_ perfect.

“Stop teasing and _fuck_ me already.”

And his wish is my command.

I pull us both up, leaving him to support himself on his hands and knees as I kneel behind him, teasing his stretched and lube-soaked hole with the head of my cock, pressing against it and smiling _viciously_ as he moans and rocks back, desperately trying to trap me inside his body. He’s needy as I’ve ever seen him, bucking backwards and resisting my hold on his waist, and I give his ass another harsh slap in retaliation of his impatience, watching in delight as it gave another jiggle. “Alright babe, here we go.”

My cock sinks easily into him as a result of the lube and fingering, and Tommy simpers and sobs under me, fingers clenching so hard into the sheets I think he’s going to rip the fabric. I hold him still when I finally bury myself to the hilt, groaning out in relief as his hole clenches around my length. I wish I could see his face right now, the slackness of his open mouth as he moans, the softness of his eyes while he stares at me-

“_Hurry up and **fuck** me you motherfucker!_”

I can’t help but growl at his harsh demand, low and animalistic in my chest as I begin to pull out, wrapping a tight fist into his hair as I start pounding into his body to assert my dominance. If he wants to get _fucked_, I can _surely_ give him what he’s asking for.

He’s throwing his body backwards at every thrust, rolling his hips as I pound into him with lustful abandon. “So fuckin’ _greedy_ today Tommy. Is this what you fucking _wanted_?” My teeth are clenched as I hiss the words out, pulling his head back to hear him scream and whine. He’s frantic against my thrusts, absolutely unashamed at his display, crying out harder as I rake lines down his thighs and wrench him backwards on my cock.

“_Fuck me fuck me fuck me_.” His voice is a mantra, filling the room in addition to my grunts and the slapping sounds of skin against skin. I’m captivated by his desperation, watching in delight as he seizes up every time I hit his prostate on another brutal thrust. He’s delirious, hips bouncing back as I yank at his hair, wrenching his head out of my grasp to bite down on the pillows under him, muffling his shouts of ecstasy. I can feel him clenching around me with every drag of my dick, see in the shaking of his shoulders and the shuttering of his breath that he’s getting close, and I’m filled with the sudden, overwhelming urge to watch him cum all over my sheets.

He starts wailing as soon as I touch his cock, body quaking at the dual-sensation and the physical onslaught. “Nikki please fucking make me _cum_ already.” He rocks down into my hand and I slow my thrusts down, _grinding_ into his prostate and listening in primal delight as he sobs harder with the sheer bliss.

“Come Baby, you know I want you to cum for me.”

It barely even takes a full minute before he’s convulsing under me, the clench of his hole around my cock almost too much as he shouts my name to the heavens and absolutely explodes onto my hand, falling onto his stomach because his arms won’t stop shaking. I don’t even slow my pace, freeing my hand to grip his hips again and restart my earlier jackhammering, eyes tightly shut as I lose myself in sensation of warmth and tightness wrapped around my cock. Tommy’s whimpering quietly now, body overstimulated after his orgasm, and I can tell I’m not far behind him. He pushes back weakly against me, hips swaying as he does his best to help me along, and I’m filled with a sudden _softness_ for this man, lifting his head from the sheets and turning his neck to press a kiss to his slack mouth. He looks _beautiful_, face red and sweaty, and the knot in my stomach starts forming as my thrusts lose rhythm.

I throw my head back when I cum, a groan of “_Tommy_” escaping me as I flood the condom, and we’re both panting our releases when I pull out of him, watching with lust as his hole clenches around nothing.

“Fucking _**Christ**_.” I huff out after I’ve knotted the condom and thrown it on the floor to pick up later. I turn to Tommy, watching as he brings a hand to his sweaty forehead, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. A rush of concern fills me as I look at him, I hadn’t even asked him if he liked it rough, and even if he had goaded me into fucking him, that’d be no excuse if I’d accidentally hurt him somehow: I’d never be able to forgive myself if I had. “Are you ok baby boy? Did I hurt you at all?”

He doesn’t answer me at first, laying limp and boneless in his afterglow, but after a moment I see a smile start to form on his face, and he pulls me down by my hair to look me in the eyes.

“Nikki, that was the _best_ sex I’ve ever had.” I return his smile at that, chest puffed out in satisfaction that I’d pleased him so much as he pulls me down on top of him to press a lazy kiss to my lips, fingers brushing softly in my hair. “You were so hot going all dominant like that.” A giggle, delirious with sleep and joy forces its way out of his mouth. “You made me cum really hard and then you tried to fuck me to death.” His giggles turn into straight up hysterical laughter. I guess _fucking someone silly _isn’t just a figure of speech, and I must have been effected too because now we’re _both_ laughing like maniacs, arms wrapped around each other on the bed.

“You were fucking _dynamite_ babe.” I can’t help but compliment him, brushing our noses together as he smiles that gorgeous smile at me. “You’re always so fucking _good_ for me. Don’t know what I did in a past life to _deserve_ you.”

“With how good the sex always is, I’m thinking you did _me_ in a past life.”

That’s fucking funny, and we’re cackling like hyenas before I feel his grip loosen, and I can tell Tommy’s forcing his eyes to stay open.

“Tired?”

“_Mhm_”

“Well get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And it’s true. There’s no place else I’d rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why it suddenly got kind of kinky but it did.


	14. XIV-Where the heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a chill morning, and starts to realize he’s fucked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pointless short and semi-fluffy chapter because the boys are soft for each other and deserve nice things.
> 
> Will I ever stop writing filler and return to the actual plot? Yes actually, in the next chapter, which will probably be out later today.

Tommy's POV

Nikki's trying to butter me up for something.

What it is I don't know yet.

I'd woken up, body pleasantly sore, to him bringing me breakfast in bed; another stack of pancakes-which he _knows_ I shouldn't be eating too much of- bacon, eggs, and orange juice. He hadn't said much, just told me good morning and kissed me softly before heading into the master bathroom. I'd sat in up in the bed, trying desperately not to pig out and disgust him with my appetite by finishing too fast.

I'd stayed shock still as the sound of water running echoed from the bathroom, chewing slowly on a piece of bacon and trying to think of _what_ I could have done to make him spoil me this morning; Maybe he felt bad for getting rough with me yesterday? I hadn't minded at all and told him as much, so that probably wasn't it. Maybe he wanted to reward me for my drumming? He'd let me know very empathically that he'd approved of it. Or _maybe_-

Maybe he's gotten tired of me already and wants to let me down gently, wants to give me one last nice memory before he kicks me to the curb because I'm a pathetic, self-conscious _wreck_ and he can't deal with me anymore. The thought hurts way more than I ever anticipated, because truth be told my feelings for Nikki are growing in a way that I can't even describe. These last few days have been the _happiest_ I've been in over a year, and that's both panic-inducing and extremely exciting. I honestly don't know if I'd be able to just go back to the way things were with Tom after having had Nikki.

"Hey babe, come in here after you're done, ok?" His voice, soft and full of warmth, breaks my train of thought, and I set the plate down on the bedside table, not even bothering to get dressed as I walk into the bathroom. He's already seen everything I have to offer him, so what's the point?

The pile of bubbles catches my eyes first, and it seems like Nikki poured every bottle of soap he'd ever owned into the tub; there's even some in his hair, and I feel a small smile tugging on the corners of my mouth at the sight. He's _adorable_ and everything he does makes me feel so _soft_. It's almost _concerning_, his effect on me.

"Aren't you a little old for bubble baths, Sixx?" He stares at me, aghast, like I'd insulted him to his face .

"First of all: You're _never_ too old for bubble baths. Second of all: It's for you, not me."

"What for?" My earlier sadness is breaking away into confusion; first breakfast, now this?

“Maybe I just want to do something nice for my baby boy. That alright with you?” He keeps his voice neutral, hand in the water to test the heat, and I lower my eyes at his questioning, allowing him to maneuver me into the tub without further comment. Is my life truly so miserable that I can’t comprehend that someone might actually care enough to want to do something _nice_ for me every once and a while? Is my self-worth so low that I have to question Nikki’s motives every time he _doesn’t_ treat me like garbage? What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?

I sink into the water; it’s nice, not hot enough to scorch, but warm enough to sooth the aching and tenseness in my muscles, and I rest back against the tub, eyes closed as the scent of the soap fills my nose. I feel Nikki’s hand come up to caress my cheek, and I lean into his touch.

“Feel good, babe?”

“Mhm”

“Can you get your hair wet for me?” I sigh at the thought of moving even a little, but break from his touch to dip my head under the water as much as I can. Nikki grabs a bottle of shampoo from the edge of the tub, rubbing his hands together before running his fingers through my hair. The feeling of his fingers gently massaging my scalp is calming, and I honestly think I could fall asleep right here.

“Can you go under for me again sweetheart?”I could, but that would mean losing the sensation of his fingers in my hair. “Please? For me?”

God damn it. God damn it does this man have me wrapped around his little finger. I go under, water rushing up to meet me, and I hear his muffled chuckles at my sulky expression.

He brushes wet strands back from my face when I come back up, leaning in to press a kiss on my wet lips and pressing me back down into the water when I try to deepen our contact.“Almost done.” He goes for the conditioner now, and I sigh again as his fingers resume their gentle path across my scalp.

“We haven’t been back to your apartment in a few days. I think we both forgot we were supposed to be alternating nights.” He was right, I had forgotten, and strangely enough, I wasn’t in any hurry to go back. I _liked_ staying at Nikki’s place, it was fun and huge and just carried his energy so well.

“_Mhm_.” He laughs at my lack of response, pulling his hand back.

“Go under one more time.” I do, water rinsing the last of the product from my hair, and I come up with bubbles on my face, making him laugh harder. The water’s starting to grow tepid, and he motions for me to stand, wrapping me in a fluffy towel when I do.

“Tommy.”

“Nikki.”

“Do you _want_ to go back to your apartment?” No, not really, but I’m running out of clean clothes and I really need to check the phone.

“Can I just pick up a few things and come back?” I hate to ask, fearful that Nikki will think I’m being clingy and invasive, and I find a very interesting spot on the time to stare at as he dries me off.

“Oh thank _**fuck**_.” What? I bring my head up to find him smiling, and my confusion only grows when he presses another kiss to my forehead. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to like..._keep_ you here against your will or whatever so I didn’t want to ask you to stay, but I really didn’t want to do another night over there- I don’t know how you fucking _do_ it, Tommy, the place _blows_.”

I don’t even know what to say. He wants me here, Nikki _wants_ me to stay in his house with him. “Oh, ok then. When do you want to go?”

“Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the car.”

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

It’s almost like walking into an entirely new dimension; Where Nikki’s house is open and inviting, the apartment is cold- greyscale and devoid of life. It almost feels like I’m just visiting a friend as opposed to coming back to my _home_.

I haven’t missed any calls, and I’m almost relieved; I don’t know how I would explain to Tom why I didn’t immediately pick up every time he called. I wonder what he’s doing in London, if the band was good enough to sign, and an ice cold rush of _guilt_ fills me when I realize I only want them to be good so Tom has to spend more time away so I can stay with Nikki longer.

“You alright babe?”

“Yea, I was just- just making sure I hadn’t missed any calls.” _I was just realizing how empty this place always is, even when me and Tom are both at home together._

He follows me into the bedroom as I drag out my overnight bag, sitting down on the end of the bed and studying me intently as I start to pile up my clothes. It almost feels like I’m moving in with him, and a sudden, unmistakable _happiness_ fills me at the thought. I hear Nikki laugh behind me, and turn to him, still clutching one of my button downs.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just...I just can’t see you _wearing_ any of this. I mean, maybe if you were a substitute teacher.”

“Well I wouldn’t usually, but Tom bought me a new wardrobe when I moved in with him, a lot of my clothes didn’t vibe with his scene.”

Nikki’s smile drops and I wonder what I’ve said to make him upset now. “Did he throw away your old clothes?”

“No! They’re in my dresser so I can wear them at home or to a party, things like that.”

“Do you _like_ wearing those more?”

“Well I mean they’re clothes _I_ bought so yea-“

“Pack those instead.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“_Please_?” Fuck. Fucking **fuck**.Why is it so hard for me to say no to him when he looks at me like that?

Crossing the room, I start pulling out my old clothes; tight pants, torn shirts, any kind of fishnets I could find at the time. Tom hadn’t minded my clothes when we first started dating, but after his promotion, he’d gone up a class level in his own eyes, and expected me to do the same as to not drag him down.

“See what I mean? This looks like shit you’d _actually_ pull off?”

“You mean I wasn’t pulling off everything else?”

“Babe, you were the _hottest_ substitute teacher I’d ever seen” I can’t help but laugh at how serious he sounds, and before we know it we’re both cackling like hyenas while he helps me pack up.

“Alright.” He says after I’ve filled up my bag. “Let’s go home.”

But...I am home, aren’t I? I don’t actually live with Nikki...So why does the thought of ever coming back here fill me with such dread?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will be better and longer lmao.


	15. XV-Drink up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Nikki go to a chill party and hang out with their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another two-parter? Wow! Will I ever get it together?
> 
> Tommy’s party outfit is this iconic ensemble:
> 
> https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/gettyimages-624204316-1553282027.jpg
> 
> https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/enhanced/web04/2012/10/4/10/enhanced-buzz-3319-1349362072-6.jpg?output-quality=auto&output-format=auto&downsize=360:*

Tommy’s POV

We’re watching TV on Nikki’s couch, me curled up to his chest with his fingers in my hair and the both of us snug under his comforter when he poses the question.

“Do you want to come to a party with me and the guys tonight?” Tom takes me to all kinds of parties, usually when he doesn’t want to go to alone or when he needs something to show off, aside from the rare occasions his clients throw some kind of raver and invite him-and me by extension- they’re usually boring as fuck. I wonder what partying with Mötley Crüe would be like, wonder if they’re as wild as the news and the magazines always say.

Probably. And I’m kind of worried to find out; spending the night in a jail cell is _not_ my idea of a good time.

“Whose party is it?”

“Aerosmith is in town so I’d get it if you said no-“

“_**Fuck yes!**_” Fuck everything I just said. If we go to jail, we go to jail, if we die, we die. I’m going to a party with _Aerosmith_.

Nikki chuckles at my sudden enthusiasm, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head.

“We’re gonna have to leave at about 9 babe, so whenever the movie ends we should probably start getting ready since it’s about to be 5.” Jesus, it is? When we’d gotten back to the apartment it had only been around 11; Nikki had made us lunch and we’d been on the couch just scrolling the channels since, him holding me in his arms and us talking about everything and nothing.

It’s always going to be weird to me how utterly at _ease_ I feel around Nikki when I’m used to keeping my head on a swivel around Tom.

“Alright, I think it’s almost over anyway.”

I sink back into his arms with a smile on my face.

Fucking _Aerosmith_, man.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I’m not sure what to wear. Usually if I’m going out to one of Tom’s stuffy label engagements with him, I force myself what Nikki so fondly referred to as my substitute teacher clothes or a suit he bought for me. For his clients wild bashes I go as tacky as possible just to piss him off, closer to my actual style, but I have no idea what Nikki would want to see me in.

_Nothing_, probably. But I’m not showing up to the party nude.

I look through my clothes like I’m anxious to go on my first date: Too ugly, too much, not enough, too short- _oh my god I forgot I even bought this._ At first glance the outfit is normal as can be, pitch black overall type suit, maybe a little extra with all the studs and bejeweled lines connecting the suspenders to the pants, but turn it around and-

“_Christ_.” I can’t help but laugh at the hole on the ass. Tom had absolutely _flipped_ when I bought them home, telling me that there was no way in _hell_ he’d ever let me leave the house in something so slutty.

I’d never gotten to wear it, and I’m feeling particularly _brazen_ this evening.

The pants are skin tight and a hassle to get on, and I do a little wiggly-jump dance as they slide around my hips. Maybe I’ve lost a little weight since I bought the damn thing, but it still fits well enough.

I go into the bathroom to get a better look. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I look _pretty_ damn fine this evening; Hair teased to high heavens from earlier, and I go far enough to swipe a dash of red lipstick across my mouth and line my eyes. Tom would have an _actual_ heart attack if he could see me, and for once the thought of his disapproval didn’t faze me at all, not if there’s even the slightest chance Nikki will think I look ok tonight.

I give myself the once over one more time before going back into the connecting bedroom, deciding on a pair of plain black boots and throwing one of Nikki’s leather jackets over the ensemble to shield my chest from the slight chill that had been stirring up outside.

“Ready baby!?” His voice is muffled from where he’s shouting downstairs, and I reply in the affirmative.

Alright. Time to go.

I make my way down the stairs, Nikki’s eyes widening almost comically when he sees me. “_Jesus_.”

“It’s _Tommy_, actually.”

“Just hush for a second and let me look at you.” He takes my hand to guide me the rest of the way down, eyes traveling up and down my body, and I see that same familiar _want_ pooling in his eyes. “You definitely don’t look like a substitute teacher now.” I wonder if we really need to leave at 9. All I need is about 30 minutes, _maybe_ 25 if neither of us get naked.

“You like it?”

“You look fucking gorgeous, babe.” I can’t help but beam at the compliment, accepting his kiss without protest as he pulls me close, hands spreading possessively over my waist as he nips at my bottom lip. That 25 minutes is starting to look like a close reality, but I can’t help but tease.

“We have to go, remember Nikki?” Twisting out of his arms, I make sure to get in front of him as we walk out of the door, smirking when he finally sees the back of my pants and lets out a muffled groan.

Yea. I’m pretty hot stuff.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

The party is already in full swing when we get there, and I hold steady to Nikki as he leads us to the door of the honest to god mansion the party was apparently being held in. There are people out on the lawn too, drinking and dancing to the music blasting through the windows, and I almost trample a passed out drunk before Nikki maneuvers me around them.

It’s just as wild inside; It seems like everyone in L.A had decided to show up to the same party and absolutely _destroy_ the place: I think someone’s actually hanging from the chandelier. The living room is a mass of bodies grinding and writhing, the kitchen is full of people drinking like it was their last day on earth, and I can hear similar sounds of revelry coming from upstairs.

Needless to say...this is my kind of party.

“Fucking _there_ you are, Sixx.” Nikki whirls us around, arm still around my waist, and we’re face to face with the rest of Mötley Crüe.

Minus the drummer, but who cares about him, honestly?

“And you bought the pretty one!”

Mick’s eyes make a slow trail down to Nikki’s arm around my waist and up to my face. It feels like he’s staring into my soul, and I’m about to just cut my losses and try to find the liquor before Vince throws his arms around us both.

“Enough standing around, let’s get partying!”

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

We’ve occupied a spot in what I can only assume is supposed to be a den, in any case, it’s hard to tell with the lights being so dim and the room being so crowded. We almost have to scream to hear each other on the couch over the sounds of KISS blasting in the room.

Vince has been plying me with compliments and drinks all night, _extremely_ interested in everything I have to say, and I can see Nikki grit his teeth and clench his fists every time the blonde calls me “Pretty” instead of “Tommy” . I almost think he’s going to punch his lead singer when he rests his hand on my thigh while he turns to talk to Mick, but I settle him down with a quick kiss to the cheek. Vince is probably just being friendly, and even if he’s not, I’m not interested.

“Where the fuck is Coulson!?” Nikki leans over me to gain Mick and Vince’s attention, the two stopping their present conversation to look at him incredulously.

“He said he was going to drink with Tyler!” Mick says back, barely raising his voice and making us all strain to hear him.

“_What_!?” Nikki yells back, making me jump as his voice blares in my ear. He notices my movement and rubs my other thigh in a gesture of apology, making me lean further into his touch.

“He said he was going to drink with Tyler!” Vince answer now, voice almost as loud as the music. I guess he’s the singer for a reason because Christ.

“I haven’t seen him all night!”

“He’s probably passed out somewhere!”

“So you guys just left the idiot by himself!? He could be passed out in a puddle of his own vomit!” It’s awkward as hell being in the literal middle of a pair of arguing rockstars, and I do my best to become one with the couch as Vince and Nikki trade barbs on who was responsible for watching Coulson; It’s almost like they’re babysitting a child and not talking about a fellow band member.

“Can you guys _**please**_ stop yelling over me!?” I can’t help but snap after a while, watching as their faces grow.

“_Sorry babe_.” They speak in unison, and I slap my hand over Nikki’s mouth before he can start cursing or threatening bodily harm.

“_Tommy_.” I correct, turning to Vince but still keeping my hand clamped over Nikki’s mouth. “If you _please_.”

“I mean I’ve been told I please pretty damn well if you’re looking to find out.” Oh for fucks sake.

“You three are fucking _exhausting_.” Mick says, chugging down the last of his beer and standing up from the couch. “I’m not going to watch you three plan this ménage-á-tragedy all night- in fact, I highly recommend all of you stop it now before someone gets hurt.” He looks directly at me and Nikki as he says this, holding eye contact with me just as he had done earlier in the night.

“What are you _talking_ about Mars?” Vince laughs away his concerns with his usual carefree attitude. “I’m just making friends with _Tommy_.”

“Sure, whatever, I’m going to find whoever’s playing the music and tell them to turn on something worth a damn. One of you clowns need to find Coulson before he gets himself killed.” He’s gone in a cloud of derisive indifference, leaving us silent and gaping in his wake.

That man scares me, to be completely honest.

The fight seemed to have drained out of both Nikki and Vince, and I sigh heavily before standing up."Where are you going?” Nikki asks, holding my hand to keep me from walking off immediately.

“Well I’m not going to spend the entire party sitting here while you two yell at each other.” I’m going to find something stronger to drink and dance the night away, and I tell him as much, running my thumb over his hands as his posture relaxes.

“Come find me when you’re done being _snippy_.”

I turn from the couch, ignoring Vince’s approving hoot, and make my way through the throng of people.

Might as well enjoy myself.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I may have enjoyed myself a little too much.

I’d made my way from the den and back into the living room, right into the heart of the party, and I’m definitely starting to feel the effect of all the drinks I’d swallowed down on an empty stomach in the den and every single shot I’d downed on my way through the kitchen; My head feels buzzy, body warm as I continue to move with the dancing crowd; I’m having a good time despite my intoxication or maybe because of it , laughing at absolutely nothing, a dull, fuzzy glow blooming in my chest as the music seems to envelope my entire being. I haven’t been drunk in a while - Tom didn’t like me drinking.

Wait- _who_ was Tom again? My dad? Tom’s always telling me what I can and can’t do, that sounds like a dad.

I loose my balance as the song shifts, and I’m about to resign myself to face planting in front of the entire party when I feel hands grip my waist and pull my back flush towards a chest. Broad, muscular, the figure is a decent height but still shorter than me, and their hands stay on my hips, keeping us both upright. My brows furrow : Who the hell do I know that would just feel confident enough to hold me like this?

Oh right- _Nikki_! Now I _definitely_ remember Nikki. I like Nikki a lot, he makes me happy and he loves me.

Wait. No, no, he just likes me a lot too. Either way.

I giggle, dizzy, carefree, and happy as Nikki’s body starts to sway with mine, grinding forward into my body as the beat swells, music filling my ears in a rush. The hands on me are wandering now as we continue to move together, brushing up my chest and down my thighs, and reaching down to grab my ass: Nikki’s always been passionate with me, sure, but he always preferred to keep any kind of sexual interaction between us private; I wonder if he’s been drinking since I last saw him.

The room spins when I try to open my eyes and I snap them shut instantly as a wave of nausea fills my guy- turns out binging after a year of being tipsy at the most is a bad idea. “_Upstairs_.” I say as best as I can, pressing my hands to my face. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Nikki-the angel- seems to get the message loud and clear, hands first on my waist as he pushes through the crowd to get us to the foot of the stairs, and half helps/half carries my dizzy ass upstairs to try and find me a bed to collapse into. My limbs feel heavy, and every time I try to open my eyes there’s flecks on white floating in my vision.

I’m starting to think one of the drinks I had in the kitchen was laced with something.

“_God damn it. I hate my life._” I slur out as Nikki starts pushing open random doors, slamming them shut when he inevitably finds a couple already occupying the room. I can’t even make out his form, eyes blurry and weighted in my head, but I hear his triumphant noise when he finds an empty guest room to shut us in.

The bed’s comfortable, a wave of euphoria hitting me as I drag him down on top of me, giggling again as he yelps in shock and slots himself in between my legs to keep from falling. It’s dark in the room, moonlight a dull blue glow through the blinds, and I’m glad for my sake he didn’t turn on the lights.

“You’re a lot more forward than I expected.” What the _hell_ does that mean? I’ve let this man _spank_ me before. Oh well. I’m tired of talking, I miss his hands on me. 

I pull him down by his shoulders into a kiss and he responds with zeal, pressing his tongue into my mouth and curling his fingers in my hair like he _knows_ I likes. I can taste alcohol on his tongue too, and scrape my teeth across the muscle when he slides it back into my mouth, desire coursing through my veins as he thrusts down, rubbing our clothed cocks together.

“Is this ok?” He asks after we pull apart for breath. I love how much Nikki cares about how I feel, always asking for my permission to touch me.

“_Obviously_.”

He resumes after that answer, pushing my hair back to trail kisses down my neck, sliding his hand between our bodies to palm my erection through my pants and making me moan. Even in my inebriated state, something seems _off_, Nikki’s hands don’t feel right on my body, strange as that sounds, and I force my eyes open again, ice filling my gut as a flash of blonde hair glints in the moonlight.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nikki’s POV

I’d found Coulson on the ground floor bathroom, wrapped up in the shower curtain in the tub, cold water blasting down on his stupid, _stupid_ body.

There’s coke on his nose and whiskey splashed all over his shirt, and the minute he comes to I’m going to choke him right back out again for making me lose Tommy.

After he’d left us on the couch, Vince had left soon after, stating he was going to get drunk in the garage with a few strippers someone had invited, and with Mick gone to harass the DJ, I was left to find our drummer before he drank himself into an early grave or got drugged and gutted in some hallway. “Goddamn it Coulson.” I mutter under my breath, turning off the water; I’m not moving his ass, but the least I can do is make sure he doesn’t die of hypothermia.

Locking the bathroom door behind me, I go to look for Tommy. The party’s been a bust so far, and I just want to get him home so we can cuddle up in bed: I have plans for us tomorrow- I want to try and get him to that storage locker Zutaut had put all his shit in, and while he’d been getting ready, I’d put in a phone call with the record shop we’d went to after our first date and bought that drum kit for him. Tommy’s too damn talented not to be playing, and just imagining how excited he’ll be to pick it up makes me smile.

Now if I can just _find_ him, that’d be great.

He’s not in the kitchen when I look, and pressing my way through the throng in the living room is a lost cause.

“Has anyone seen a really tall brunette in a bedazzled leotard?” Maybe not the best descriptor, but it’s all I got. No one seems to hear me however, and I’m about to start screaming at the top of my lungs when someone taps me on the shoulder.

“I think he went upstairs with Neil.” The drunk answers me, swaying on his feet, and I feel a sudden bolt of absolute anger fill my body. I thank him through gritted teeth, pushing through the pack without a care as I storm up the stairs. If Vince has even _touched_ Tommy I’ll kill him, band be damned. I knew I should have put a stop to the flirting the _second_ I’d seen it in the studio; Vince practically trips over his own dick chasing any pretty thing he sees, why would _my_ pretty thing be any different to the fucker?

I don’t even knock on the doors upstairs, slamming them shut after me whenever I don’t find Tommy and Vince. I’m growing more and more pissed off the more I think of them together: Would Vince be gentle with Tommy, touch and tease him the way he likes it? Or would he be selfish and hurt him in his rush? Would Tommy moan under him, those pretty little noises escaping his lips as he came, screaming Vince’s name? Either way, I’m going to beat the living _fuck_ out of him when I find him.

The last door on the hall is practically kicked off it’s hinges, and a rage that I’ve never felt before fills my body at the sight before me as light floods into the room.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Tommy’s POV

The body on top of me _isn’t_ Nikki, and I don’t even have time to start panicking before Vince is being ripped off of me, teeth leaving a stinging scrape across my neck.

“What the _**fuck**_, Sixx?” Oh god. I think I’m going to be sick: Nikki wasn’t in bed with me, Nikki’s there, looking absolutely wild as he squares off with Vince. I’ve never seen him look so angry before.

Vince though, he has a death wish.

“I was kind of in the _middle_ of somethi-“ he doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before Nikki’s throwing them both to the floor in a flurry of fists and curses, and I feel my stomach churn even faster, room spinning at a shocking speed as people begin to rush into the room to break them apart, spitting venom at each other all the way.

I’m not going to puke, I’m going to _die_. Two-fourths of the biggest band on the strip are having a knock down drag out brawl on the floor because I can’t hold my liquor.

I try to stand up from the bed and my legs start to give out before someone catches me: It’s Mick, and though his face is a blank, I can see the concern in his eyes as he looks to the fighting pair and then to me again.

“Fuckin _knew_ this was going to end badly.” I can’t help the tears at that, because it’s true- I’ve ruined **_everything_**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know what you’re thinking...why would I give you fluff and then ruin everything with angst? And the answer is...I’m evil 😈 
> 
> Murphy’s law states that what can go wrong will go wrong...and holy shit did things go wrong.
> 
> People in the know will understand why this chapters alternate title is “Nightmare Party.”


	16. XVI-Night changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikki loses his shit and so does everyone else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter basically just getting Nikki’s POV of everything that went down. Next chapter should be some good stuff

Nikki's POV

In the end, it takes about 3 people to pry my hands from around Vince's throat, and about 5 to pull me off of him when I decide to start throwing punches again.

Apparently running on a mixture of adrenaline and pure, unfiltered murderous intent makes you stronger, because even as the small crowd is lifting me off of my singer, I manage to tangle my fists in his hair and drag him up with me. I can feel blood trickling from where Vince managed a solid left hook to bust my lip, and I take solace in the fact that his nose is bleeding too before he's pulled out of my rage-fuel grasp.

"What the _**fuck**_ is your problem!?" He wheezes out, throat still raw from when I'd tried to choke the life out of him. I almost break out of the pack at that stupid ass question: What was _my_ problem? Was he fucking _joking_?

"One good thing in my fucking life and you can't help but put your shitty little hands all over it, huh Vince? Just _wait_ til these fuckers let me go." It's pure _venom_ as I spit the words through gritted teeth, watching in boiling anger as his eyes widen.

"You're trying to kill me because I made out with Tommy? Are you fucking _kidding_ me!?" The blondes voice has taken on a hysterical tone, hands coming up to his rapidly bruising throat as he eyes me in shock. "It's not like he wasn't _begging_ for it, you _**absolute fucking psychopath**_, he pretty much jumped me as soon as we got in here!" I don't know if the thinks he's trying to explain himself or what, but every word out of his mouth is making flashes of him and Tommy together on that _damn_ bed cut through my mind, Tommy's lipstick is smudged across his lips, and I'm closer to snapping than I think I've ever been in my entire life: I honestly don't know if I'd be able to stop myself from throwing him out the window if these people let me go.

"Fucks sake Nikki, I haven't even _banged_ him yet." I'm yanking my arms away from whoever's holding me back the second the words leave his lips, and I take a sick satisfaction as fear floods his face and he stumbles back onto the bed.

"I'm going to fucking _kill_ you-"

"Can you two shut the _fuck_ up already?" Mick's voice cuts through my wrath like a knife through butter, sharp enough to gain the entire rooms attention, and any anger I'd felt left my body the second I looked at my _baby_: He looked awful, eyes red and puffy with tears, mascara running down his face, lipstick smudged, skin pale.

"Babe?" Vince is all but forgotten in my mind as I cross the room to gather his face in my hands. I tilt his head up to me, and his eyes are blurry and unfocused in a way that couldn't have just been caused by alcohol; Someone had drugged him, and I feel my earlier rage setting my blood aflame again. As far as I'm concerned, everyone at this fucking party can _rot_, especially-

"_Vince_." I try to keep my voice as cold as possible. I can't take care of Tommy from prison, I know that, but if I find out that Vince had drugged him, all bets are off. "_Did you drug him_?"

"Are you fucking _nuts_!?"

"_Answer the fucking question_."

"This is _exactly_ how I found him downstairs! What the shit is going _on_ between you two anyways!?"

_I might be in love with him_. I want to say bitterly. _I might be in love with him, and now he's crying and traumatized and violated at a party I bought him to_. I never get the chance though, because Mick is pressing Tommy into my arms.

"If you still want to murder Neil later, _fine_. But right now you need to get this kid out of here: Take him home, or to your place, I don't really care, but he looks like he's about to have a fucking panic attack."

He's right, and all the remaining fight leaves my body as Tommy throws his arm around my neck. I need to get him home: I've been through enough hangovers to know this one isn't going to be pretty, and he could start puking any second.

The small crowd that had formed parts like the Red Sea when we pass by, and Vince is still on the bed in an absolute daze when I throw him one last searing glare: This isn't settled between us, not by damn sight.

Tommy's basically boneless as I guide us down the stairs, eyes wide and frantic as we make our way through the crowd, still partying away, completely unaware of the disaster that had unfolded upstairs. I don't even care if Coulson's made his way out of the tub yet, not with Tommy falling apart in my arms in the absolute _worst_ way possible.

"_Nikki_-" He starts, voice shaky and weak. "_I don't feel too good_."

"I know babe, we're outside now, see? We're almost to the car."

"I fucked up really bad." His voice breaks at that, my heart right along with it. I need to get him home and into bed so I can tell him I don't blame him, that I still think he's the most perfect man on the planet for me, and nothing would ever change that. “I ruined _everything_.”

“Tommy, Baby, it’s going to be alright.” It isn’t. _He_ isn’t.

“I think I’m gonna puke.” I swing him around, swooping his hair back as he pukes into Aerosmith’s bushes. This night is a fucking nightmare that never ends apparently, because I hear someone’s voice wring out across the lawn.

“Tommy? Is that you?”

“Oh **god**. Oh **_please_** no.” I hear him mutter, head sill facing the ground before he raising his voice as best as he can. “It’s _not_ me. _Please_ fuck off.” No luck, because the stranger- to me anyways- is approaching us, seemingly ignorant to Tommy’s misery.

“It’s Harold! Tom introduced us at the Christmas party? Where is Tom anyway? You two are always together.” I decide I hate Harold, however unfair that may be.

“He’s in London you jackass.” He spits, voice suddenly venomous and hand coming up to his head like he’s about to faint, despite how absolutely fucked the entire situation is, I can’t help but smirk at Harold’s shocked expression.

“Maybe I should give him a call then.” Tommy tenses in my arms at that, and I’m so high strung I could probably swing at Harold if he kept talking to my baby.

“Fuck off Harold.”I say at the same time Tommy mutters a soft _please don’t._

“I really don’t think he’d approve of-“

“Dude I will seriously lay your ass out right now.” The _last_ thing Tommy needs right now is a lecture on what _Zutaut_ would approve of

That seems to get through to him, and his mouth snaps shut long enough for me to haul Tommy past him and into the car, his head lolling back as I load him into the passengers seat. It’s time to get the fuck out of here, and the scene is such a sad switch of how _happy_ we’d both been earlier in the night I almost want to cry along with Tommy.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

He’s dead on his feet the second I get him into the house, body finally giving out after everything that had happened, and I basically carry him up to the bedroom, not even bothering to undress him aside from his shoes as I collapse next to him.

Running on rage all night has left me tense and exhausted, and Tommy’s dizzy and far away look isn’t doing anything to soothe my anxiety.

“Don’t think this is your fault, ok?” I say, which is hilariously stupid in hindsight considering this is all _my_ fault, but I know how Tommy is, know how Tom has trained him to think he can’t do anything right but look pretty, and I need to reassure him that even if the night had ended in disaster, it wasn’t on him.

“It was.” He responds after a while, voice low. “I wasn’t watching my drinks and threw myself at your singer like some cheap _groupie_.” I fucking hate to hear him talk about himself like this. Nothing about Tommy is _cheap_, not to me. He’s worth fucking diamonds and gold and any kind of precious thing in the world.

“_Vince_ should have known better.”

“You should _find_ better.” He slurs out, still hazy from the drugs and drink. “Find someone who isn’t a complete waste of space who can’t do anything but fuck up.”

“_Hey_.” My voice is sharp, his self-loathing cutting me to the bone. “You’re not a waste of space, _don’t_ fucking talk about yourself like that.”

“Aren’t I? My own _boyfriend_ doesn’t even think I’m good at anything.”

“Your _boyfriend_ is a piece of shit.”

The room goes quiet again, the two of us laying side by side on our backs, bodies stiff and untouching.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, ok?” He doesn’t bother to respond, turning on his side to face the wall, and I hear a small sniffle escape him as he does. All I want to do is roll over and gather him in my arms, hold him and kiss him and tell him everything would Alright, but I can tell now is not the time to touch him, not when he’d had unfamiliar hands on him earlier in the night.

He needs his space, and as much as it pains me, I owe him that much as someone who cares about him.

My mind flashes back to the morning, when I’d woken Tommy up with breakfast and a bath. We’d been so happy then, him relaxing in the tub, leaned back with his eyes clothes, me washing his hair, the two of us just content to _be_ with each other. I’d wanted to just break down then, no grand proposal or anything, just pipe up and ask him to finally fucking leave Tom and move in with me, be my boyfriend officially.

Truth be told, I think I’m in love with Tommy. I’ve never met anyone like him, even under all the walls he’s put up, I can see we’re compatible in a way I’ve never been with anyone else and I know he isn’t with Tom. I’d wanted to say that when we’d went to get his clothes. Hell, I’d wanted to say that since I first laid eyes on him at that party with Zutaut, and I’d been gearing up to tell him before Tom got back.

How had everything gotten so _fucked_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m tired and these two make me sad.


	17. XVII-A rush to the start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wakes up hungover and gets a second-hand retelling of the events of the party.

Tommy's POV

I woke up in last nights clothes with the headache from _hell_.

I don't remember what happened last night, but I must have dropped from about 70 feet and landed directly on my head because _god_, I've _never_ felt pain like this before in my entire 19 years of existing: Every sound is amplified, every beam of light through the curtains a heat seeking beam shooting directly into my skull and frying my brain like an egg. This _hurts_.

I sit up, which is a mistake, because the slightest movement sends my guts rushing up my throat, and I'm running to the bathroom on shaky legs because I do _not_ want to puke all over Nikki's bed.

I hate puking, always have, and this morning is no exception, my head hovering over the toilet as I expel literally everything I've ever digested.

"_Fuck_." I groan after the deed is done, flushing away the evidence of my misery and sitting back on the tile floor. Seriously, what the _fuck_ had happened last night? I remember being so excited for the party, arriving on Nikki's arm, hanging out with Vince and Mick, going into the kitchen...

The kitchen. I'd taken a drink from a tall blonde guy, so excited to just be out having a good time that I didn't even stop to think about fucking stranger danger or anything else that a fucking _five year old _knows. I'd wandered out in annoyance when the guy had gotten weird and handsy and ended up on the dancefloor. That's all I can remember, my mind a complete and total blank after that.

There's something wrong, I can tell. I don't know what it is, but I have this sinking gut feeling that _something_ may have happened to me last night, something I can't remember. I'm probably just being my usual self; overly worried and paranoid, but I just _need_ to know.

Nikki's still asleep when I go back into the bedroom, and he looks so beautiful, dark hair fanning the pillows, face soft and relaxed in his slumber; I really don't want to wake him up just to bother him with stupid questions.

Jesus, what a mess I've found myself in- and why the fuck does my _neck_ sting so bad? Did Nikki turn into a vampire on me last night or something?

I walk back into the bathroom and _wow_ do I look awful; Mascara lines running like thick black tears down my cheeks, red lipstick smudged like a clown, hair looking like a birds-nest. This was going to take some effort to clean up, I'd better get in the shower and...is that a fucking _**bite mark**_ on my neck? I reach my hand up to the bruise; Nikki had left little marks on me before, but never something like this, and I don't remember him ever _acting_ like he wanted to take a chunk out of me so why start now? We must have gotten more fucked up than I thought last night, how did we even get back?

Alright. I'm gonna hate to do it, but I need Nikki up because I _need_ answers.

“Nikki-“ I lean over his slumbering form, shaking his shoulders gently. “Get up, I need to talk to you.”

“_Hnng_.” He groans, but makes no move to wake up, turning his head away from me. That’s weird, Since when is he such a heavy sleeper? He’s usually always up before me.

“_Nikki_.” He doesn’t even bother groaning sleepily at me, batting my arms away like he’s shooing a particularly annoying fly before snuggling back into the pillow.

I sigh, apparently I’m going to have to wait until he decides he wants to get out of bed to get the answers I so desperately desire. I could try to fall back asleep, but my my is dry and I probably need to find something light to fill my stomach so I don’t get sick again. Kitchen it is then.

I exit the bedroom as quietly as possible, head still throbbing as I walk down the stairs, and I’m in the middle of debating if I should make Nikki breakfast when the phone rings.

“Hello-“ I don’t even get to finish my greeting when Doc’s voice, loud and full of rage blasts into my ear.

“Are you fucking _nuts_, Sixx!? You could have **_killed_** Neil last night.”

Wait what? Did Vince and Nikki get into a fight last night? Nikki’s lip had looked a little swollen, but I hadn’t thought anything of it.

“And for _what_? Because you found him on top of some dime-a-dozen boy toy that _already_ has some man he’s leeching off of?” That hurt. That really fucking hurt. Doc had always been cordial to me, and I knew I meant nothing to him in comparison to his clients, but why would he _say_ something like that? I wasn’t _leeching_ off of Tom, honestly I wasn’t, I’d tried to find work all the time, but that was hard for a high school dropout with no GED and no bankable skills to do- wait a second, _what_ did he just say?

“Shut the fuck up for a minute” I speak up,interrupting his rant about glorified groupies spreading their legs to break up bands. “Repeat what you just said.”

“Are you deaf _and_ dumb, Sixx? I know you’re mad that Vince fell into bed with Lee last night, but you’re supposed to be a professional, and _professionals_ don’t try to _kill_ their lead singers over the first pretty face they see.”

Oh god. Oh no. Had I _slept_ with Vince last night? Doc continues on, oblivious to the fact that I’m not Nikki.

“And what are you even _doing_ with Zutaut’s sugar baby anyway? Stealing other peoples toys is pretty fucked up. Let me give you some advice as your manager: Cut your losses and lose the kid before you lose your band, Neil already threatened to quit about six times this morning and hell, sweet as he is, you could probably find about ten kids that look like him and don’t come with all this fucking _baggage_.” He hangs up before I can let him know that I’m the one he’s talking to, and I stand there for a moment, phone still clenched in my grasp as I try to register everything I’d just heard.

I may or may not have slept with Vince.

Nikki _definitely_ tried to kill him.

And now Vince was threatening to leave the band.

The tears fill my eyes before I can even stop them, and before I know it I’m sobbing my eyes out by the phone. I’d fucked up, as usual, but now I wasn’t just screwing up my own life, but _Nikki’s_ too. I knew how much he loved Mötley Crüe, and if I ruined that for him, I’d never be able to forgive myself. Doc was right- I do have way too much baggage. He could do better.

And he’s going to have to, because I have to end this.

I can’t afford to let this going on any further, not when Nikki’s entire _livelihood_ is at stake. He has enough to worry about without me leeching off of him, sapping him of his time and money and potential like I _apparently_ do Tom.

I make my way back upstairs as quietly as I possible can. I hadn’t bothered to unpack any of my clothes, not expecting to stay as long as I had, so it’s no trouble at all to grab my overnight bag and a pair of shoes.

Nikki’s still sleeping, and I almost want to wake him up, but I know what would happen if I did: He’d look into my eyes with that sincere look of his, say something beautiful, and he’d find some way to convince me to stay, because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s talking me into things.

But I’d ruin his life if I stayed, and apparently everyone can see it but him; I can’t do that to him, not when I lov-_care about him _so much.

I press one last kiss to his lips as he sleeps, a tear from my eye dropping down to land on his cheek as I do.

I’m sure I have enough money in my wallet to call a cab.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

The apartment is just as cold and devoid of life as I remember, and it seems even more desolate in comparison to how warm and full of life Nikki’s had been. I feel like a prisoner returning to jail after a bid of freedom, and it’s concerning how depressed I feel considering this is my _home_.

There’d been more fucking boxes outside the door, and maybe now that I’ve proven I can pick up I’m the mail, he’ll finally show me some _appreciation_: I hope so, I’m only going to be with him for the rest of my life.

The rest of the day passes in a haze, and I fall back into the same routine I’d left behind when Tom left town: Cleaning, watching tv, cleaning some more and reorganizing the bookshelves when I run out of shit to do; I need to keep my mind off of Nikki, need to avoid thinking of the things I could never have again.

I wonder if he’s woken up yet, if he’s realized I’m gone.

If he even _cares_.

I can’t imagine he would after what I caused last night, after I’d fallen into bed with his singer and cheated on him...wait, no, actually I was cheating on Tom with Nikki, and then cheating on both of them with Vince. I can’t help the harsh laughter that escapes me at the revelation; why is the only thing I’m good at either fucking things up or fucking other people? I could almost cry.

And now the phone’s ringing. Great.

“Hello?” I answer, voice emotionless, and my gut sinks even further when I hear Tom’s voice on the other end.

“Tommy. Before I start, is there _anything_ you need to tell me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. All of it


	18. XVIII-Born to walk alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finally loses his cool.

Tommy's POV

I'd never felt more afraid than I had in that moment, never felt the pure, bone-chilling _panic_ that had overtaken my body when I heard Tom's voice come through the phone. Every part of me was _screaming_, fight or flight response kicking in something fierce. It didn't even matter to me that Tom was on an entirely different continent, he still had the ability to completely upend my life, to ruin everything I'd tried so hard to build and I was _scared_. Scared of what he’d say over the phone, and scared of what he’d do when he got back.

I couldn't even talk, tongue heavy as concrete in my mouth as my brain ran thorough endless scenarios of what he'd heard, what he _knew_.

"What? Nothing? Cat got your tongue?" His voice is cruel, mocking through the receiver, and I can feel my anxiety skyrocketing.

"I'm-"

"**Quiet**." My mouth snaps shut instantly, and despite my best efforts, I can feel the tears rising in my eyes again. God damn it, I was so fucking tired of crying. It made me feel _weak_ every time.

"You really are a piece of work aren't you _darling_?" The word is sneered, twisted and cruel from his mouth, and it feels like a knife stabbing into my gut with every syllable. When Nikki had called me pet names, there had been an unmistakable warmth in his voice, Zutaut has none, nothing but ice and _malice_. "A week. I leave for a _week_ and you manage to send everything to shit. I knew you were good for nothing, but that's got to be a new record."

"Tom-"

"I mean, Jesus, a week on your own and you manage to fuck your way through half of a band I signed? That's some really _innovative_ stuff babe, I'm proud of you." My grip tightens around the phone, knuckles white with the grip as he continues berating me.

"Harold called me this morning, you know that? Talking about how he'd seen you drunk off your ass at a party with Nikki Sixx, dressed like a slut and puking in the bushes. I almost didn't believe him at first because the guy’s got a pretty sick sense of humor until _Doc_ blew my phone up talking about how you'd nearly managed to Yoko Ono his clients."

"_I can explain_-"

"No you can't, you absolute _idiot_. I had to do _so_ much damage control this morning, you know that? I got woken up out of a good night's rest to clean up your mess. And who the hell do you think you are running around on me? Like I'm not the only reason you're not bumming on the streets somewhere? Like I didn't take pity on you and let you into my life and my home? You'd be nothing and no one without me. Hell, you'd _have_ nothing and no one without me since I'm the only person on the planet willing to deal with your chaotic ass."Well that...that just wasn’t true, and I can’t help myself from saying such.

“Who else would, _Sixx_?” His laughter is as cruel as his words, and I can feel my blood boiling with every cackle. “Yea sure, Harold told me you were hanging all over him: **Newsflash Tommy, **he’s a _rockstar_, he’d give attention to _anything_ he wanted to bang.” God, it’s crazy how just a few weeks ago I would have said the same thing, would have written Nikki’s affections off as a lustful attempt at seduction before he left me in the dust, but knowing what I know now, I can’t help but laugh at Tom’s harsh words.

“Is this _funny_ to you? I don’t think you _whoring_ around L.A is a laughing matter.”

“You have no _idea_ what’s been going on but you’re trying to talk like you do, _that’s_ whats funny to me.”

“I know _exactly_ what’s been going on: You’ve been an attention starved _brat_ since I met you, and now that someone famous is giving you the time of day, you want to run around and _cheat_ on me for some kind of rush-“

“I’m in _love_ with him, you jackass.”

I don’t mean to say the words, not aloud anyways, and _definitely_ not to Tom, and the silence from both ends of the conversation is like night and day from the viciousness of our earlier conversation.

“You’re _joking_.”

“No. No I’m not.” Why am I still talking?, why am I digging the hole deeper with every word? : It’s not too late to apologize to Tom, to tell him my relationship with Nikki was a lustful, stupid mistake , that it will never happen again and that I still love him and want to be with him, but my brain and my mouth are at war.

“In the few weeks I’ve known him, that man has shown me more attention, respect, and **_love_** than you have in our entire relationship. He’s taken me to diners, record shops, and parties, and he didn’t just do it because he didn’t want to be alone or because he was throwing me a bone like a fucking _dog_, he did it because he gave a shit.” It’s like all the sadness, humiliation, and rage I’ve ever felt towards Tom is coming out, and I keep going, fully unable to stop myself.

“He lets me wear what I want, he cares what I have to say, he doesn’t belittle me every chance he gets, and when he _fucks_ me, I actually feel something other than _disgust_.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop talking right now.” The lack of emotion in his voice is chilling, I’ve heard Tom angry plenty of times, but he’s never sounded as flat as he does now, and I know what can only be bubbling underneath. Normally I’d listen, bow down to his will and start the apologies, retreat back into the mask he’d forced upon me and silently cry myself to sleep.

But not today. Today was my breaking point, and he chose the wrong time to get at me.

“Or what? You gonna _hit_ me when you get back?”

His silence is telling, and it only serves to amplify my rage. How dare he? No, seriously, how _**dare**_ he?

“_**You**_-“ I can’t even speak with how pissed I am, teeth gritted so tightly I feel they might shatter in my mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my entire life, not even when Athena snitched on me to our parents about a boy I’d snuck into my room. “You even _think_ about putting your hands on me Zutaut, and I promise you they’ll _never_ find your body.” He seems to have some survival instinct, because his voice is deceptively soft when he speaks up again.

“_Tommy_-“ It’s his blatant attempt at manipulation that gets me, this is the voice he uses every time he talks me into something I don’t want to do: Whether it be a party, or a trip, or sex. It’s always this voice. He’d been using the same voice when we met, when he’d had me fooled. Well not anymore, I’m done with it, done with _him_.

“You’ve stolen a _year_ of my life. You’ve stolen a part of me I may never get back. I used to be so fucking _happy_ before I met you, and now look at me- I can’t even comprehend the fact that someone might _care_ about me anymore. I used to be a whole _person_,and individual, not this pathetic, manufactured _joke_ you’ve turned me into.”

“_Tommy_-“

“**_Fuck you._** Seriously. You’ve ruined my life and I _hate_ you. You’ve stripped me of everything that made me _me_ just so you could have some silent, doting sex toy to clean your house and suck your dick. And the worst part is I let it go on for this long because I’d tricked myself into thinking we cared about each other.” I feel lightheaded, almost like I’m about to collapse, and I breath in a shaky sigh as he continues to stutter out. "We’re done.Don’t even fucking bother calling back, I’m _not_ going to pick up.” The second I hang up I feel the tears spill over, anger leaving my body and leaving me a sobbing wreck. That- that was something I couldn’t take back, and the sound of the phone ringing is like a bomb dropping over my heart. I almost want to pick up to hear what he’d have to say but I have none of my earlier bravado left, just infinite sadness and _crushing_ despair.

I’d lost everything in a week: Nikki, Tom, everything was just up in flames and it was all my fault.

A year of my life. A whole era in the life of Tommy Lee over via phone call. I know I can’t stay in the apartment, know I can’t afford to be here when Tom gets back, but I have nowhere to go: I don’t want to have to explain any of this to my parents, and I definitely can’t go to Nikki’s, which leaves me only one option-

I don’t have much that I didn’t bring to Nikki’s in my overnight bag, and the rest is no trouble at all to load into one of the suitcases Tom didn’t take with him. I grab some other shit on my way out, an expensive watch he’d bought after he’d gotten his promotion but never bothered to wear, a few of his cassette tapes and his player...and about $500 from his safe. Maybe it’s wrong of me to take the money, but after everything _he’d_ taken from _me_, I figured I deserved a little compensation.

I ignore his increasingly frantic calls and dial for a cab. My last look at the apartment before I close the door forever is bittersweet; It had been my home for a year, a place where’d I lived with a man I’d thought I’d be with forever, but it had turned into a gilded cage, a prison where I couldn’t just be _me_. I had to leave, even if a sick part of me would miss the security.

Maybe one day I’ll find a place I can call home, but for now I’m heading to the cheapest motel I can find to _finally_ start reclaiming my life and my time.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

It’s an absolute **_hellhole_**: Dingy and disgusting in downtown L.A, but the cabbie had sworn by it as cheap and reliable and I, in my infinite naïveté, had believed him.

Cheap? Yes. Reliable? _Um_... I’m pretty sure the place is actually just a drug den. It _has_ to be.

There’s holes in my rooms wall, like someone had been going through a rage-fueled fit and punched through the drywall, there’s a half eaten pizza on the TV, and as I walk in, I can see roaches crawling on the walls and floors.

It is by far, the worst place I’ve ever had to live in, so why am I so _happy_ to be here?

Maybe because, despite everything, it’s my own space. It’s somewhere I don’t have to hide from Tom, somewhere I don’t have to _pretend_ to be someone else. It’s not home, because home is where Nikki is, and it’s not perfect- but it’s _**mine**_. It’s something that belongs to me as long as I’m paying for it.

I can see it now: I’d go down to the storage center before Tom got back from London and get the rest of my shit and I could spruce the place up a little, hang up my posters, put up my record player, maybe find a job around town. It was only temporary until I could get enough cash together to catch the next bus the hell out of L.A. I’d met a guy at one of Tom’s parties who’d offered me a ticket to come to New York and do some kind of movie. Even if that offer falls through, it’ll be nice to be able to really start over, put some distance between me and all my sad memories of the strip.

Maybe distance will make losing Nikki, my first and last chance at a _real_ love, hurt a little less 

The screaming from next door is a nice touch, and I close my eyes as it heightens in volume with no sign of stopping. Even with the awful ambience, I can’t help the wry smile that crosses my lips.

It’s not perfect, and I’m not whole, but this is mine, and I’m almost me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tommy has taken the first step in getting his life back, and with that comes more of the real Tommy. I’m happy for him.
> 
> Nikki on the other hand...


	19. XIX-Wake up call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikki wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly the worst chapter I’ve ever written lmao. I’m so sorry y’all have to read this garbage. I’m just going to go stew in my shame.

Nikki's POV

It feels strange not to wake up with Tommy in my arms after doing it for a whole week, stranger still that he's not even in bed at all, his side cold, like he'd been up for a while. Jesus, what _time_ was it anyway?

I can feel my lip throbbing from where Vince had punched me, and another flash of annoyance shoots through me- I really should have beat his ass one more time on my way out, just for having the nerve to put his hands on _my_ Tommy.

Speaking of my baby boy, I need to find him so I can tell him what happened, explain to him that I didn't blame him. He'd been so completely _down_ last night, the self hatred he'd had when I'd first met him back with a vengeance. I know I need to pick him up before he retreats into his shell and I lose him to his insecurities again. The very thought sends a sharp jab of pain through my chest- I honestly don't know _what_ I'd do without Tommy, and I'm not too keen on finding out.

I shake that admittedly worrying thought off in the moment, figuring he'd be in the bathroom, maybe relaxing in the tub; He'd fallen asleep during a bubble bath once, and I'd spent half an hour downstairs looking for him before finding him conked out in cold water, nose scrunched up like it always does when he's sleeping. He hadn't been there though, and the toothbrush I'd bought for him when he'd come to stay with me was unmoved, another anomaly for the morning: Tommy _always_ brushed his teeth first thing in the morning- something about how grossed out Zutaut would always get about his morning breath. I'd never given a shit, willing to kiss Tommy whenever, but I knew if he was skipping a part of his ridiculous morning routine something was up- I also knew he'd been sick the night before, puking in the bushes and all, and wondered if he'd went downstairs to find something to eat.

"_Tommy_?" I called from the top of the stairs, waiting for his beautiful voice to answer back, and a weird sense of plain _wrongness_ overtook me when I received no response. Tommy usually answered when I called for him, full of enthusiasm for whatever stupid shit I had to say for him, and the quiet in the house was more than a little worrying. “Babe?”

Silence. Alright. I'll just go find him myself.

The kitchen is empty. So's the living room, and I'm starting to feel a creeping sense of unease: Something's up, and I'm almost afraid to find out what it is."_Babe_?" I call out again, panic filling me when he still doesn't respond, and before I know it I'm opening every door I can, desperately praying he's behind any of them.

He isn't though. He's nowhere to be found.

The earlier stab of panic I felt comes full force, and I can feel my heart about to pound out of my chest as I start _shouting_ his name throughout the house.

I rush back upstairs, hoping he'd made his way back to the bed while I was downstairs screaming my head off, hoping that this was just some sick joke to get back at me for taking him to that party and letting him get drugged, and something close to a _cry_ escapes me when he's not only still absent, I notice his bag is missing too.

He's gone.

I'm running back to the ground floor before I even know it, car keys in hand before the phone ringing interrupts my mania. I pick it up, hands shaking as I do, wanting nothing more than to hear Tommy's voice. There's nothing but silence from the other end, room quiet except for my heart pounding in my ears.

"Good news,Sixx." It's Doc. Fucking **Doc**. "I've cleaned up your mess for you. Thanks for all the fucking _help_ this morning, that was a _real_ enlightening conversation."

This morning? I hadn't talked to Doc since the rehearsal, so I have no idea what the _hell_ he was talking about.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"We were _literally_ on the phone 3 hours ago. You didn't say much, but I managed to convince Neil not to quit the band, he'll be expecting an apology though."

3 hours ago I was knocked out in bed, and if Doc had called, I wouldn't have been the one he'd spoken to-

"_**Fuck**_."

"Excuse me?"

"What _exactly_ did we talk about?"

"Jesus Sixx, you've _really_ lost it haven't you? I told you to break things off with Zutauts boyfriend before he broke up the band."

Fuck. Fuck.

"What were you _thinking_ anyway? Didn't you learn anything from The Beatles? I honestly worry about you sometimes-" I've hung up the phone before he can even finish, practically sprinting to my car. If Tommy was gone, I knew there was only one other place he could be.

I just hoped he was alright.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I'm pretty sure I broke the land speed record on my rush to Tommy's apartment, barely even bothering to park the car as I pulled up to the curb. I'm panicking as I speed through the lobby, sick feeling in my gut as I mash the elevator button.

Tommy had left, sad and hurt, and I couldn't even drag my sorry ass out of bed to stop him. Every worst case scenario possible is dashing through my head as the elevator takes what seems to be an eternity to get to Tommy's floor; Tommy, crying alone in the dark of that shitty apartment, Tommy drinking himself into a coma out of guilt, Tommy flying to London to meet up with Zutaut. I know realistically he's probably in his own bed, nursing a hangover and not wanting to see me after what I let happen to him, but I _need_ to know he's alright: Even if he never wants to be with me again, I need to know he's ok.

It takes all I have not to just pound on his door like an insane person, keeping my voice calm as I call for him.

“Tommy? Babe? Can you open the door? I know you’re pissed about last night, but I need to see you.”

Nothing.

“I’m not angry at you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to get _mad_ at you for getting drugged.”

Still nothing, and I press my ear to the door in a pathetic attempt to make out any sound from the other side.

“I know you can hear me baby boy, your apartment’s not that big.” There’s desperation in my tone now, and I’m doing all I can to keep from falling apart in the hallway. I’ve fucked everything up, ruined the best thing in my life because I was too busy looking for _Coulson_ to keep an eye on him. Tommy would never speak to me again and it was my own fault.

“I can stay out here all day Tommy, you and I both know that.”

I rattle the doorknob, banging against the solid barricade in a frenzy. I need to see Tommy, even if he tells me to fuck off, I need to look into his eyes one last time just so I can finally tell him I love him.

“_Please just open the door_.” I rest my forehead against the door, hair falling over my face as I blink the beginnings of tears out of my stinging eyes: I’m _not_ going to cry, not in fucking public.

“He’s not here.”

The voice next me jolts me, heart pounding as I turn to face the stranger: An older lady, door open only slightly behind the chain lock, staring at me in a mixture of judgment and worry.

“I heard him earlier, screaming at that Tom fellow about something. It must have been real nasty, because he left with his bags a few hours ago and I don’t think he’s coming back this time.”

My heart sinks at that: Not only had Tommy left my house, he’d left the apartment too. He could be anywhere in L.A, scared and alone, probably blaming himself for everything that had happened when it was all my _fault_.

“You do know you’ll need to check in at the front desk if you’re visiting, right?”

God damn it. I’m _not_ going to cry.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I drove myself home in a daze, feeling almost zombie like as I walked back into the house.

It felt almost _painfully_ empty, in just a few days Tommy had managed to fill the place with all the light and life it had been missing, and now he was just gone.

The phone ringing again forces me to move from my place at the door, and my voice is cold and flat when I answer.

“Is this Nikki Sixx?”

“_Yes_.”

“This is Greg from the record store- The drum kit you bought is ready to get picked up, just let me know when you’ll be by and I’ll have it-“

I don’t even bother responding, hanging up as another painful stab hits my chest.

I don’t end up crying, but I tear my living room apart in my despair, throwing anything that’s not nailed down and watching it shatter against the wall.

Unfortunately, the destruction won’t bring Tommy back to me, and the respite from my pain is only temporary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be out soon because I miss Tommy just as much as Nikki is going to.


	20. XX-Keep it together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy starts getting his shit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More poorly written filler tbh, just to check in on Tommy. I’ll get back into plot with the next chapter.
> 
> I don’t know why my chapters are so trash lately lmao, maybe I’m getting sick or something.

Tommy's POV

In the end, it takes me another two days to get into the storage facility to get my shit back. A week of bargaining, begging, and eventually bribing with about $100 of my cash, all because Tom hadn't had the common _courtesy_ to put my name down as a co-owner of the unit. It fills me with even more rage when I think about it: He'd been so convinced I'd never need to get my stuff back, so convinced I'd stay under this thumb and in his bed _forever_, ready and willing to be used and belittled- and for a while, he was right. I'd spent a year of my life caged in my own body, scared to be myself or even voice a complaint, so afraid of losing him because he'd made me think he was the only person who'd ever _care_ about me, ever see me as anything other than some teenage dropout going nowhere fast.

I'll be forever indebted to Nikki for showing me who Tom really was, for dragging me out of that pit of misery and manipulation. Even though our time together was brief, I fell for Nikki extremely fast, and there will always be a part of me that loves him for everything he did for me, for truly allowing me to be _me_ again, for showing me that love isn't harsh words and thinly veiled threats, but whispered endearments, soft touches, and unconditional acceptance.

And _God_ do I miss Nikki. Every day since I left I've had to stop myself from going to the check in room and calling from the payphone just to hear his voice. I know he'd be angry with me for nearly destroying his band, and equally furious that I'd just left without a word of apology, and my heart honestly wouldn't be able to _handle_ how upset he'd be with me-

..._Jesus_ Tommy, stop thinking about him before you cry again. You’re going to have to live the rest of your life without him, so worry about getting your shit in the cab.

The sight of all my old stuff had filled me with a warmth I hadn’t felt since that first night out of the apartment. Just the sight of my old posters, my useless junk, my comic collection- all parts of my identity that Tom had forced me to hide away. I can feel the tears bubbling up, but I’m not sad, I’m actually so, _so_ happy.

I’d filled the trunk of the cab as much as I could, putting the rest in the backseat with me, and watching the storage facility shrink into the background as we drove off was a whole different sort of liberating as it finally started to kick in that _holy shit, I literally never had to have anything to do with Tom again, this is really happening, I’m really getting away from him._ It’s going to be a little scary, being on my own, but I’m excited in a way, excited to be the master of my own fate for once.

I’m laughing wildly in the backseat now, and I can see my driver looking at me through the mirror in concern, but I just can’t help how absolutely ecstatic I feel right now.

I’m home free.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

We’re taking a shortcut back to the motel when I see it out the window, the shitty little hair place nestled in between a sex shop and a video store. It’s missing a letter from its sign, windows barred and filthy, but I can’t help but reach up a hand to touch my hair.

Tom had liked me to keep my hair as long and “naturally colored”. I’d always assumed he liked having something to pull on, and the though of his hands on my body in any way makes my stomach flip. Before I can even stop myself I’m calling out to the driver.

“Do you mind stopping for a while? I’ll pay extra?” Some grumbles on his end, but he acquiesces to my request, pulling a u-turn to bring us into the parking lot, and I slide him an extra $20 for his time.

It hits me suddenly that I don’t have an appointment- but then again there wasn’t anybody in the place.

The door sticks when I try to open in, and I’m starting to think I’ve made a mistake when a pull from the other side nearly sends me flying, a rough looking older man staring at me in suspicion.

“No loitering.” His voice leaves no room for question, and I barely manage to sputter out a response.

“I just wanted to get my hair cut.”

He squints, harsh eyes looking for any sign of deceit as an excuse to kick my ass. It’s uncomfortable, his scrutiny, and I’m about to just make a run for it when he lets out a gruff “_Fine_.” and leads me to a seat. I’ve never had my hair done professionally before, my mom usually taking care of it for me before I just decided to grow it out in school, and it’s almost kind of exciting.

“What did you want?

That’s a good fucking question. I don’t just want to lop it all off, but I also don’t want a reminder of Tom’s expectations _literally_ hanging over my head.

“Short?”

“Well-“

“You want a mullet?”

“_God no_.”

“Perm?”

“I mean-“

“I can just shave it all off if you want to waste my time.”

First off, _fuck_ this guy...wait. That’s actually not a bad idea. “Do you think you could shave half? And maybe color it a little?”

He stares for a moment before shrugging, and he’s thrown what looks to be a poncho over me before I can even react, the sudden snip of scissors and the sight of a rather lengthy chunk of my hair falling to the ground sends a muted shock through me.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

He cuts away for a while before the buzz of a razor sings through the air, I’ve kept my eyes closed since the first cut, not wanting to look until it was over, and he shaves away more of my hair as I grip the seat like a child. Time passes quickly after that, and I almost nod off during the coloring. He’d asked me if I wanted any particular color, and me, not knowing the first thing about hair dye, deciding to entrust my hair to this man.

“_Done_.” Jesus, really? I feel like I just sat down.

I open my eyes, almost afraid he’d somehow mutilated my follicles, and my mouth drops open at the sight of my new hairdo.

Holy shit. I look like an absolute _punk_. Tom would _**hate**_ it.

Which is _exactly_ why I love it so much. I basically fling myself into the barbers arms, smiling like a total loon before he pushes me off, looking two seconds away from planting me into the ground.

“Just pay up and _leave_.”

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ

It takes about 3 trips to the cab and back to haul my stuff, and I can tell the cabbie is more than tired of my ass because he actually gets out to help me on my second trip and speeds off before I can even thank him for hauling me around downtown L.A all day.

It hadn’t been much trouble to spruce up the motel room once I’d gotten my stuff back, and after hanging my posters up and setting my shit up, it almost started to remind me of my room at home before everything went to shit and I ended up with Tom.

The roach spray and mousetraps had gone a long way in getting rid of my critter friends, and even though my neighbors still screamed their lungs out all night every night, and I was still pretty sure the place was a drug den, I was happy to be there, happy to have a place to call my own.

Even if it did get terribly lonely sometimes, I’d be fine.

What I didn’t know, however, was that I wasn’t going to be lonely for long.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

I meet Cherry by the vending machines one night, and she nearly takes my head off over the last bag of ruffles.

Of course, we become fast friends.

She’s a 5’6 red headed spitfire from Ohio, her real name is Cheryl, but she hates being called that, and as I soon find out, we’re both running from our pasts: Cherry had married her boyfriend right out of high school , a suave older gentleman who’d sold her promises of love and romance after her parents kicked her out for a pregnancy scare, and just like with Tom, he’d turned out to be an absolute nightmare after a while.

She’d confessed to me one night in her room, which as we’d found out after the ruffle incident, was right next to mine, that he’d got drunk one night and hit her, and it had only gotten worse from there before he’d fallen out in a puddle of his own vomit one night. She’d taken his wallet and hitchhiked to L.A to meet up with her grandparents, not knowing they’d moved away already.

She’d ended up working as a waitress a few miles away from the motel, but refused any pity from me or anyone else. Survivors, she told me, didn’t take pity. She was making her own way in the world, and to hell with who didn’t like it.

I wish I was that cool, wish I had the resolve and bravery she did. She wouldn’t have put up with Tom for as long as I did, only staying with her husband for a few months before leaving him in the dust.

Cherry reminds me of Athena in a lot of ways, and our relationship quickly blossoms into a sort of sibling rivalry. It’s good to have a friend my own age, good to have a friend at all really, since Tom was always so controlling of who I let in and out of the apartment and always wanted to know where I was going when I left.

It’s a punch to the gut how much Cherry’s husband reminds me of Tom every-time she talks about him, but I brush it off, Tom had never hit me, so it’s not like I was being _abused_ like she had been. I’m not about to make her mad by trying to compare her genuine nightmare to my minor inconveniences.

It’d just be disrespectful to our friendship, and honestly I need all the friends I can get.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

“Find a job yet?” I’m on the bed in her room while she gets dressed for her night shift, looking through the classifieds with an increasing sense of hopelessness in my heart.

“_Nope_.” Do I sound miserable? Good, because this is tragic. How is no one in this entire city hiring? How am I going to pay for my room if I don’t have cash?

“The gay bar down the street needs dancers.” I can tell she’s just trying to be helpful, but I can’t help but bury my face in my hands before glaring at her.

“Who wants to see me naked?”

“Go stand on the corner for a little while and I’m sure you’ll find out.”

“_Cherry_.”

“_Ok. Ok_.”

I turn back to the help wanted section, huffing in annoyance. Tour Guide? Nope. Math Tutor? Hell no. Single party wanted for adult video shoot? What the holy fuck? Session drummer for Elektra Records, Assistant Librarian, Swim Instructor...

**Wait**. Session drummer? I could totally-

_Nope_. No way. No way in hell was I going to go to my ex’s company to beg for a job. I wasn’t that desperate yet.

“Find anything?”

“Nah.”

Oh well, I could always try again tomorrow. I have enough cash to hold me over for at least another week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In tribute to Tommy’s underrated sidecut.
> 
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8c/8c/49/8c8c49f67bd78a975f2e2714b7fc4813.jpg


	21. XXI-If you think you’re lonely now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikki finally confronts Doc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short chapter for today, but it’s something lol.
> 
> Is the title a Mariah Carey reference...yes, yes it is.

Nikki's POV

In what should be a surprise to no one, Mick is the one to come get me in the end.

I hadn't answered my phone in days after the record shop called me to come get Tommy's drums, too busy absolutely _wrecking_ the rest of my house out of grief and rage, the shattering of my possessions almost as loud as the shattering of my heart: My fits of destruction hadn’t distracted me for long though though, not even booze could-_nothing_ could permanently distract me from the crippling _pain_ that hit me every time I even thought about Tommy... and I thought about him every second of every day, so you can imagine how shitty and hungover I felt in the days after his disappearance.

"_Christ_, Sixx." I had only answered the door when it became clear Mick wasn't going to leave, the pounding of his fists and the sounds of his shouts only amplifying my hangover headache. I look like a ghoul, I know it already, I haven't actually _slept_ in days, too busy drinking and wandering the house, hoping in vain Tommy would come back as I lay near comatose on the floor.

"Great to see you too buddy." I don't even have the energy to summon up a sarcastic smirk, wanting already to go back to the kitchen and crack open another bottle of Jack: The only time I'm not hyper focused on Tommy is when I'm passed out drunk, so I need to keep drinking.

Stopping the pain for a short while is the only thing I can look forward too nowadays.

"Is this what you've been doing all week? You look like _hell_."

"I'm just tryin to have a good time man."

"We've been calling you all _week_, you didn't answer. If this is your idea of a good time, you need to get your head checked." His disdainful tone sends a bolt of anger through me, and though deep in my addled mind, I know he's only trying to look out for me, I'm not in the mood to be lectured.

"If you just came over here to try and parent me then you can fuck right off." He doesn't budge, not even in the face of my anger, just narrows his eyes and crosses his arms in front of him, the very image of stern disapproval.

"I _came_ to bring your sorry ass to _work_. Doc has been on our asses about this album, and _I'm_ not about to get chewed out again because you don't want to get off your ass."

**Doc**. A sudden rage fires up in my gut when I hear his name: Whatever he had said to Tommy, it had been enough to make him leave, it was _his_ fault my baby boy had dropped off the face of the earth and left me miserable and alone. The day I'd woken up to find Tommy gone, I'd almost went down to the studio to find Doc, ask him to his face what he'd said when he thought he was talking to me; I knew, however, that I'd probably _kill_ the fucker if I saw him, and forced myself to stay home by putting my foot through the wall and pretending it was him.

"Are you even listening to me?"

I know the bare minimum, but I need to know just _what_ Tommy heard, and I think enough time has passed since that phone call that I _won't_ try to kill Doc when I see him....maybe just punch him in the face.

"I can hear you loud and clear Mars, just let me get dressed and we can go to _work_."

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nothing’s changed in my absence, Vince still looks bored, Coulson is still mindlessly running an awful fill on his kit- one that I know for a _fact_ Tommy would do a hundred times better-fuck, now I’m thinking about Tommy again. God, my chest hurts.

“_He lives!_” Vince’s mocking voice is a temporary break, _and_ I’d almost forgotten he was just as responsible for Tommy leaving as Doc was. It’s so _easy_ for me to blame the two of them when in reality it was _me_ who bought Tommy to the party in the first place, _me_ who let him wander off, _me_ who made a scene with Vince and absolutely _humiliated_ him in front of half of the Sunset Strip’s rock scene.

_Me who couldn’t even get up the next morning and console him._

I’ve never been good at taking responsibility for myself though, and I’m not about to start now, not when it’s so easy to direct my rage outwards.

“Shut up Neil, I’m _not_ in the mood.” Doc’s nowhere to be seen, and I can feel my eyes twitching: if he chose today of all days not to show up, I was going straight to his house to drag him out by his hair.

“Where’s Doc?”

“In his office.” Coulson calls from behind the glass, looking annoyed by the proceedings. Ok, that’s fine, I’ll just hunt him down and scream at him in private since he wanted _professionalism_, and if I do decide to kill him, there won’t be any witnesses-

“Where’s your arm candy?” And of course, Coulson can’t shut the fuck up. My fists clench at my sides: _don’t murder your drummer, don’t murder your drummer-_

“Yea, nobody’s heard from _either_ of you since the party, is Tommy alright?” The look of plain _guilt_ on Vince’s face eats at me, burns my gut with a rapidly expanding fury: How the fuck can he sit there and look _contrite_ when his wandering hands are one of the main reasons I’ve lost Tommy forever? The bruise coloring his eye does nothing to make me feel any better.

_Don’t murder your singer either._

“_I wouldn’t know_.” I manage to spit out through gritted teeth. “_He’s been missing for **days**_.”

“What do you mean he’s _missing_?” The voice behinds me chills my blood, and it’s all I can do not to go back on my earlier resolution and just go for his throat. I turn to face Doc, taking in the furrow of his brow, the confusion written on his face. “Did he go back to Zutaut’s place?” And how convenient for Doc if he had, but unfortunately, Tommy wasn’t there either.

“I mean he’s fucking **_gone_**. He’s not at my place, he’s not at _Zutaut’s_ place, he’s dropped off the face of the goddamn _earth_.”

“Have you called the cops?” Vince chimes in, and the look I shoot him makes him put his hands up in surrender.

“And tell them _what_?” Coulson shoots out “He might be at his parents place or something. I just don’t get why it _matters_ so much.” Alright. Guess I’m murdering my drummer after all.

“Coulson, if you don’t shut the _fuck_ up-“

“Calm down Sixx, I’m sure he’s fine.” Doc puts his hand on my shoulder, and I wrench out of his grasp, every bit of hatred I’ve kept under the surface bubbling up.

“Don’t you fucking stand there and act like you care what happened to him when it’s _your_ fault he left in the first place!”

“How is this _my_ fault?” He has the gall to look shocked at my outburst, like he hadn’t resented Tommy from the start, like he hadn’t probably been _looking_ for an excuse to get rid of him since the first day I brought him to the studio.

“That morning you called? That was _him_ on the phone, dipshit. Whatever you said to him fucked him up enough to sneak out while I was sleeping.”

“_Dude_.” Vince whispers out behind me, but I’m too fired up to even care.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I fucking _trusted_ you and you’ve completely fucked over the best thing in my life!”

“I thought it would help.” Help me by ruining my life? Sure thing, man.

“I fucking trusted you, but you are not my fucking father and you are not my fucking friend. You are just another _leech_ with your hands in my pockets who wouldn't be standing there now unless you were getting something out of it, so just fuck off, Doc- You're fucking _fired_!”

I can hear them shouting for me as I storm out of the room, but I don’t even bother turning around, I’m way too pissed off to even speak. I just need to call a cab and get home so I can start drinking again.

Eventually though, the booze isn’t going to be enough to forget about Tommy.


	22. XXII-9 to 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finds a job and further explores his options now that he’s free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s basically a running joke to call my chapters filler but this actually is lmao. I’m not even ashamed to admit it because it’s actually setting up the plot.

Tommy's POV

I'm running low on money.

I should have figured it would happen eventually, between paying for nights at the motel, buying food, and taking cabs around town to look for jobs, I should have _known_ the cash I lifted from Tom wasn't going to last forever.

I'd taken up running errands for the motel's owner, but he's not paying me next to nothing and I'm _hungry_: I haven't been hungry in a while, so used to living rent free with Tom and chill and happy with Nikki, life on my own is starting to look less and less like an all expenses paid trip to Disneyland and more like the crushing reality of adulthood. It fucking _sucks_, but what am I supposed to do? I can't ask Cherry for money, she's struggling just as much as I am, and I'm absolutely _not_ going to crawl to Elektra for that drumming job. No matter how much I miss being able to make music, the idea of going back there, back to Tom's workplace where so many of his coworkers could recognize me, maybe start asking questions, maybe even tell him where I _am_, is nauseating in a major way-I didn't hype myself up to get away from him after a year just to run right back into his arms. **_Hell_** no.

So, that left me with one option. _The gay bar down the street needs dancers._

If my mom could see me now, she'd be disappointed as hell. But I need the money if I don't want to end up on the street, and _walking_ to New York doesn't sound too nice.

I've been to one strip club in my entire life, one of Tom's co-workers has been having his bachelor party and I'd been dragged along. It had been a club with female dancers of course, and we'd stayed out late into the night: So my experience was useless in the face of a male club in the afternoon. I feel like an absolute _sleaze_ even walking in, newspaper clutched in my hand like a lifeline.

The place is deserted, but not like, _awful_ or anything. It's cleaner than the motel, that's for sure, and my eyes dart to the center of the room and focus in on the stage, pole jutting into the ceiling. Am I really going to be able to do this? Get naked for cash and grind on creepy old dudes-

"We're closed." I almost have a heart attack as a whirl to face the voice. An older guy, looks about mid 40s, and he's staring at me with an expression I can only classify as suspicion mixed with amusement. "Come back at 8 if you want to see the dancers."

"_I-uh_." I'm waving the newspaper around like an absolute fool as he stares at me, eyebrows shooting to his hairline as I make a fool out of myself.

"Are you with the cleaning crew? Because you're early for _that_, too."

God damn it all to hell. I'm not here to see the dancers and I'm not with the cleaning crew, I'm here because I literally have one other option and I'd rather _die_ than take it.

"I'm looking for Mr.Anderson." I manage to spit out, thrusting the paper at him. "I'm answering the ad for dancers." And what an ad it had been: **Dancers wanted, no experience required. Ask for Fred Anderson.**

"You're not going to get any customers if you look like you're scared of your own shadow."

"I'm not-"

"Cute kid though, even if you're _way_ fucking taller than any of the other guys. That might end up working in your favor, bring in a lot of cash because you look so..._different_." So apparently this guy works here. He's certainly buff enough to be a bouncer, but he's not really who I need to be speaking too right now.

"Is Fred here? I'm supposed to find him for the interview."

He laughs, loud and uproarious, and I stand still like a statue as he rests his hand on my shoulder.

"Kid. _I'm_ Fred. Your _interview_ started the second you walked in the door."

"_Fuck_."

"Aw, it's not so bad. You're already much prettier than anyone else who's come in today."

"..._Really_?" Well that's kind of a relief.

"Yea, and that's half the criteria. If you can swing around on a pole and look sexy doing it, you and I will have a prosperous working relationship."

Man. What the hell was I even worried about? Sure, this side of town is garbage, but this place seems cool, Fred seems alright, I'll be fine-

"You mind losing the shirt?" Oh right, this was what I was worried about. He seems to notice my apprehension, because his expression softens a bit. "None of the dancers get naked, if that's what you're worried about, you'll basically be in underwear the whole time- unless you want to get a little frisky in the V.I.P rooms, that's _your_ choice." Well that makes me feel a little better, I can do underwear no problem.

I shrug out of my shirt, blackness overtaking my vision as it goes over my head, and Fred has an appraising eye as he looks me over. "A little on the scrawny side, but not bad." He circles me, tongue clicking. "I think I can bring you in for a trial period- you available this weekend?"

I was actually supposed to be cleaning the owners office, but I need this money more than the _pocket change_ he'd give me. "I can clear my schedule."

"Great! Come back this Saturday at 8 and I'll have some of the guys help you get set up. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to upstairs. I'm sure you can find your way out."

It takes me a while to put my shirt on after he leaves, struck dumb with the knowledge that _holy shit, I'm a stripper now. _I mean, I'm not a prude or anything, and my body is one of the few things about me I'm confident in, plus I really need the cash, but just..._damn_. I can't believe this is what my life is now.

At least I know Tom would have a heart attack if he knew.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

"Holy _shit_ Tommy, you _actually_ went and got the job." I'm lying on Cherry's bed, staring blankly at the roof as she stares at me in shock, blue eyes wide as she repeats the words over and over. "You're a _stripper_."

"Yes Cherry, for the _fiftieth_ time, I have a temporary job at a strip club- I don't even know if I'm an actual hire yet."

"You're gonna be giving people lap dances."

"Cherry-"

"You might find a sugar daddy your first night and quit."

"_Stop_."

She giggles, flopping down in the bed next to me. "You know what this means, right?"

"What? What does it mean?"

"You're gonna have to learn how to dance." She continues to laugh over my groans before her stomach starts rumbling, interrupting her hysterical fit.

"You want to come to the vending machines with me?"

"If it will get you to stop laughing at me, sure." I'm also hungry, but I'm not going to tell her that.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

"How many bags of chips are you going to _buy_ tonight?" She's basically emptying the vending machine and using me as her own personal chip boy, bags spilling out of my arms as she presses on.

I'd better be getting food out of this.

"This is _dinner_, Tommy."

And how depressing is that? We're practically living on chips and whatever we can buy for cheap at the grocery store. Maybe I was too harsh on Tom, he never let me _stave_ after all.

But then again neither did Nikki, and only one of them ever cooked for me. _God_ I miss Nikki's pancakes after eating nothing but junk these past few days.

I just miss him in _general_, honestly. But enough of that.

"Save some for the rest of us." I can't help but smile when I see Trevor: He's another one of our "neighbors", up stairs from me and Cherry's rooms, and though I wouldn't call us _close_, he's always fun to be around, goofy and nice and stoned 99% of the time.

And always trying to impress Cherry.

"There's another vending machine upstairs if you're hungry. This one's mine." And there they go, the usual flirtatious bickering I always find myself caught in the middle of. I kinda wish they'd just bang already.

"You can't claim an entire machine."

"And yet I just did."

"I'm 100% sure this is against motel policy."

"You _and_ the policy can kiss my-"

"What do you have in the bag?" I interrupt them for my own sanity, nodding my head in the direction of the black bag Trevor is hefting along with him. He smiles at my questioning, mischievous look on his face.

"Stick and poke kit. Some of the kids upstairs wanted tattoos but couldn't afford to get them done professionally and I figured it'd be a cool way to earn some extra cash."

"So _you're_ going to do them?" Apparently Cherry's taken her pick of the chips, because she's turned to Trevor, completely unimpressed. "Do you even know the first thing about tattooing?"

"Learned how to do 'em in jail- why, you want one? I'll do it for _free_ for you."

"I'd rather _die_, thanks. That sounds like an infection waiting to happen."

I don't have any tattoos, Tom absolutely forbidding them when I moved in with him because he thought they were trashy. I've always wanted one, to be completely honest, the artistry behind them always interesting me.

"How much would one cost?" I hear myself asking, Cherry looking absolutely shocked out of the corner of my eye.

"You're going to get _gangrene_." She says, absolutely _scandalized_.

Trevor ignores her. "Depends on how big you want it."

"It'd be small."

"Maybe around $15 then, I don't know. Meet me in my room and we can talk, I need to take a leak." He's gone just as quickly as he had come, and I balance the chips in my arms as they begin to fall.

"You're not _seriously_ going to do this, are you?"

"Yes, and you're going to come hold my hand because you _love_ me."

"The _hell_ I am."

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

She ends up coming to Trevor's room and holding my hand because she does, in fact, love me. And I'm glad she did because it stung like an absolute _bitch_ every time Trevor pressed the ink into my hip.

Maybe getting a tattoo done in a dingy motel room isn't the smartest decision I've ever made, but it's one I made for myself so I'm determined to be happy with the results.

_Fuck_ if I don't want to cry though.

"_Aaaaand_ done." Trevor snaps the gloves off, studying his creation with pride as I release my death grip on poor Cherry's hand.

She holds up her compact mirror, and while it's not the nicest ink I've ever seen, I'm extremely happy with the results.

"You must love this Nikki chick a lot to get her named tatted on you man." Trevor says, packing up his tools as I trace my fingers over the skin.

"I did man, I really fucking did." I don't even bother correcting him, it’ll just be nice to have something to remember him by besides memories.

Though it’s not like _those_ matter much anymore anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t let shady stoners tattoo you in motels, no matter how much you love somebody. We love Tommy but he’s not our life model in this fic lmao


	23. XXIII-When the party’s over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikki suffers alone before finding an alternative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this took so long 😖. I’ll try to get back to my regular updating but school has been a struggle lately.
> 
> This chapter is the start of the timeskip, like the timeline of this wasn’t already wonky 🤣

Nikki's POV

Two months. That's how long it took me to hit rock bottom.

I'd tried, _believe_ _me_ I'd tried; Tried to forget about Tommy that is, sinking myself into booze in a fruitless attempt to distract myself from the pain, skipping out on Vince and Mick, avoiding their calls and not answering the door when they visited. I couldn't face them, I didn't want too either.

Coulson became the first person to get through to me after a few weeks of misery, picking my front doors lock and breaking in like a common thief after one too many skipped rehearsals. He'd found me on the floor of my living room, empty bottles scattered around my drunken form, crying out for Tommy. _"Look at you." _He'd said, disgust written plain on his face as he hefted my body from the floor._ "Falling apart like this over some tail."_ I'd wanted to deck him right then, tell him that Tommy wasn't just some tail, he'd been the love of my life, but all I could do was slur and protest drunkenly.

_"I love 'im."_ He hadn't said anything to that, just shook his head as he dragged me up the stairs, dumping me unceremoniously into the tub and blasting cold water out of the shower head in a sick twist on that scene from the party. It had shocked me, jolted my damn near out of my skin and killed my buzz entirely, and he'd laughed, laughed at the miserable expression on my face.

_"I'm sick of you sitting on your ass, Sixx. If Vince and Mick can't get your head right, I'm sure going to."_

Get my head right. What a _joke_. Coulson had no _idea_ what I was going through, no _idea_ that Tommy was the first thing I thought about when I woke up from my alcohol induced coma and the last thing I thought about when I put myself back under. No idea that I couldn't even escape him in my _dreams_, saw him there, silent and disgusted as I begged for him to come back to me.

Nah. I couldn't see me getting my head right.

_"Get dressed." _He'd said, pulling me up once again._ "I'm taking you out tonight, and we're gonna bring the old Nikki back."_

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

The partying had come first, me and Coulson tearing up the shadiest parts of L.A every night like we used to, losing ourselves in an endless haze of music and drinking.

He’d tried to throw some groupies my way, and I had to commend him on his effort: They were all tall, lanky, dark haired and dark eyed and when he’d noticed I wasn’t going for the girls, he started sending the boys. I couldn’t bare to touch them, couldn’t just close my eyes and _pretend_ they were Tommy, it felt too much like a betrayal, and I would have rather been alone then try to fill the hole in my heart with some cheap replacement of the man who’d turned my life upside down. I’d spend most of our nights out at the bar, drinking to forget while he lived it up on the scene.

But Coulson had persevered, plying me with all the distractions he could think of in order to, and I quote, _“Get your mind off of your groupie.” _Yes, I did threaten to kick his ass over that.

A week with Coulson, us barely sleeping, barely eating as we raised hell in L.A, and my mind was still with Tommy. I was still morose and unresponsive to his efforts, and I could tell he was getting desperate.

That’s when the drugs came in.

It was Coulson’s last resort, and my first reprieve. The night he’d approached me about it, I’d almost laughed in his face; I’d done drugs before, so had just about everyone I knew, but _heroin_? That had seemed extreme even for _us_.

_“You want to stop feeling so shitty right?” _He’d said, knowing look on his face._ “You want to get your mind off Tommy? This’ll do it for you, don’t even worry man, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”_

And I, proving my mom right that I was in fact an idiotic, impulsive _fuckup_, trusted him. I let him get it heated up and watched him load up the needle.

_“It’s best if you don’t look the first time.” _Coulson offered nonchalantly, liked he’d done this a thousand times before, grabbing my wrist and stretching my arm out._ “It’s probably going to sting.”_

And sting it had, the needle going directly into my vein had shocked me at first, keeping me still in disbelief before I even registered he’d actually fucking done it and _holy shit I actually let him._

_“Just lean back and close your eyes man, you’re about to feel really fucking awesome.”_

I’d done as he said, not even bothering with the blood pooling from the puncture wound, hoping not to see a flash of Tommy behind my eyelids as I always did.

That was the beginning of it, the world slowing down, my thoughts floating away, and all I could feel was a rush.

_“You ok man?”_

Was I ok? I think I was higher in that moment than I’d ever been in my life, I felt like if I even tried to stand I’d crash to the floor in an instant. But on the other hand, I felt like I was above all understanding, like my body was cocooned in a place where nothing mattered but me and my high.

For the first time in weeks, I felt peace. For the first time in weeks...I wasn’t thinking about _Tommy_.

_“I’m ok.” _I’d told him, holding out my other arm. I’d be ok, if this was what it took to not be in pain all the time, I’d be ok.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

So this is where I am two months later, back in my house on my kitchen floor just like Coulson had found me, but picking a different poison.

Heroin has become the only constant in my life alongside Coulson, the only thing I look forward to nowadays. I know Mick and Vince have noticed now, know how much they worry every time I show up to rehearsal shaky from needing a hit, but it’s like I can’t stop myself. It’s like a rollercoaster; Scary as hell at first, but exhilarating once you get started, and as soon as its over you want to get back on.

When the booze stops working, when the party’s over, when I find myself in between hits, shakingly sober and thinking about how disappointed Tommy would be in me, how _disgusted_ he’d be that he’d _ever_ let me into his life, I just prick my veins and let the pain fade, let myself forget how much it fucking hurts.

Because in the end, it’s all I can do, trying to forget, even temporarily, is less detrimental to my health than walking my empty house and knowing Tommy will never be here again, knowing that I’ll never see him again and all I have to comfort me is smack. It’s a painful existence, deep down, and some part of me, a little voice in the back of my head that I haven’t managed to snuff out yet is screaming that if I don’t stop, this’ll _kill_ me. Sometimes I wonder if death would be better, if it’d be easier to die alone than live without Tommy.

It doesn’t matter in the end, because I’m not going to die. I’ll be fine.


	24. XXIV-On the grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy goes to work and tries not to think on the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter but it’s really just here as a lead in for the actual plot. I’m not terribly satisfied with it but it is what it is.

Tommy's POV

Sometimes I wonder how I managed to stray so fucking _far_ from the life my parents planned out for me.

I can hear them now, hear the diatribe they'd hammered into my head since before I could even walk: Go to high school, graduate, go to college, get a good job, meet a nice girl, have 2.5 kids and a dog, buy a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and go to church every Sunday with a smile on your face: The stereotypical all-American dream, nuclear family included. I knew they meant well, but that wasn't me- It never _would_ be. They'd _hated_ when I told them I'd wanted to be a musician, damn near _disowned_ me when I quit school to start the band, said it was a stupid hobby that I wouldn't be able to turn into a career. I can't even imagine the hell they'd unleash if they could see me know, if they found out their little boy worked the nightshift at an admittedly sleazy male strip club and got groped by strangers for enough money to keep a roof over his head.

The looks on their faces would probably be fucking _hilarious_.

I don't mind my job. In fact, when you take occasional creepy client out of the equation, I actually like it a lot: I'd always wanted to be a rockstar, and this is probably the closest I'll ever get; I'm a performer, just like I'd been in my band, and the club is my stage, a place I can sell theatricality and sexuality without a care in the world-hell, the other dancers are practically my _bandmates_ with as close as we work together, and every night is another concert.

I've come a long way from the mortified kid who'd walked in that first night, absolutely dreading the idea of getting on stage in heels and makeup, now it's basically all I have to look forward to, a few hours every night when I can escape my troubles and memories and deep-seeded sadness and carry myself with confidence, receiving nothing but lustful gazes and cash instead of the harsh words and disdain I'd always gotten from Tom.

I'm getting distracted again, I _always_ do when I'm getting ready, and I'm sure if I wasn't so popular with the customers Fred would have already fired me for always being late to the stage.

My coworkers are already flitting about the dressing room as I sit at the mirror, balls of energy with teased hair, perfect makeup, and skimpy outfits, and I do my best to avoid another cloud of glitter as it floats in the air my way. I stare at my costume for the night, rolling my eyes at the ridiculous ensemble; I'm not sure why Fred thinks an endless stream of leather, chains, fishnets, and heeled boots is all I'd ever want to wear, but I'm not even going to ask.

Man. My hair's starting to grow in where I shaved it, I'll have to find someone to cut it again.

"T-Bone!" I'm lining my lips when the arms surround me, cloying perfume filling my nostrils and nearly forcing a sneeze out of me as I stare at Evan through the mirror; He's a few years older than me and has been working at the club for a year. He was kind enough to take mercy on me when I arrived that first night, scared out of my wits, and the blonde has become one of my closest work friends. "_T-Bone!_" He says again, voice saccharine as he hugs me from behind, and I'm reminded of how much I hate that the nickname had ever even caught on, basically becoming my stage name at the club. "Can you do me a _favor_?"

"I'm not doing another private show with you after you punched me in the face last time."

"It was an _accident_!" It was, doesn't mean it didn't hurt. For such a small guy, Evan has a mean right hook.

"What do you _want_, Evan?" God is it hard to put on mascara while you're practically in a human straight jacket.

"Can you cover my last dance for me? I have an essay I've been putting off for weeks now and it's due tomorrow so I want to leave early and start on it."

"That's what you get for procrastinating. I should say no so you learn something."

"_C'mon_." He whines as I roll my eyes. "You know the later it gets, the more drunk the crowd gets, you're bound to get a lot more money if you don't take off after your sets like you always do."

He's right, of course, but drunker clients mean grabbier clients, and the first time I'd gotten groped by a customer who was too drunk to respect the "no touching" rule, I'd almost knocked his teeth in before security dragged him out. Fred had found me in the bathroom, mascara running as I did my best not to fall apart in front of him, and I'd told him if that ever happened again I was gone, cash or not: I know some people would say it comes with the job, but I _don't_ like people I barely know touching me. I can tell myself it's because they're not following the rules of the club, or they're too intoxicated to tip properly, but I know deep down every grabby hand, every tug on my body and drunken grope is a reminder of the party, a reminder of a time where someone I barely knew had put their hands on me and I couldn't help but panic every time it happened.

But I knew how serious Evan was about college, saw how his eyes lit up every time he talked about getting his degree, and I knew if I were in his position I'd want someone to help me. "..._Fine_.But this is the _last_ time." He squeals with delight, pressing a kiss to my cheek and smudging his lipstick all over me.

I swear I'm going to kill him one day.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

The night passes in a haze, me keeping to my platform at the front of the club, switching out with another dancer to take a break every three songs before going back.

The pole is cold under my fingertips as I spin and move to the music. I'd found the hoots and catcalls humiliating and degrading at first, but over time they came to be a source of power. I had every single one of these idiots wrapped around my little finger and I could use them for anything I wanted; Money, Compliments, Attention...

_Love_. The one thing I so desperately wanted but didn't have.

No. I wouldn't fool myself. None of these men loved me, their alcohol addled brains would just make them think they'd did, and I'd flirt and flatter, but they'd always forget me before the night was through, leaving me with nothing but a lapful of bills and an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

_Focus, Lee._

I twirl my body around the pole again, raising an eyebrow when some drunk idiots wallet hits me in the leg.

Oh well, at least it's full.

The music is winding down, and one of my coworkers "relieves me of my duties" for the night. I'm glad, I need a drink and to count my tips. I'm heading back to the dressing room when the music starts up again, and I freeze in place when Live Wire starts playing over the speakers.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

I used to love this song, used to blast it in the apartment whenever Tom was at work. It symbolized a strange sense of freedom to me, counting down the moments until Tom left and I could hear it again, but now the only thing I can feel is _pain_. My chest hurts, my stomach drops, and I honestly think I’m going to be sick.

I’ve avoided Mötley Crüe as much as possible, my tattoo being the only reminder I even wanted about the band, about _Nikki_. I can feel the tears welling up, and I blink them away fiercely: It’s just a fucking song, I’m _not_ going to fall apart at work like this.

I’ll just do the adult thing and cry at home.


	25. XXV-Needle in the hay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikki goes back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to write something that was both plot related and good but managed to only do one of those things.

Nikki's POV

The studio is quiet, we’ve been here for hours, and all I want is to go home. There's this sense of unease in the air, suffocating me in its wake, and it's about to drive me _crazy_.

I know things are only getting worse. I just _know_ it, I can see it in my face when I drag myself to a mirror; I'm getting skinner by the day, skin pale and sweaty, eyes dull and lifeless. I look like the walking dead.

“Nikki?” Mick. Again.

Mick and Vince are scared for me, every time I see them they have this pity and fear in their eyes every time I show up to a rehearsal late, pale and tired, like I'm going to fall apart any second. It pisses me off, I've _never_ liked being pitied, and I can't _stand_ to be around them when they're like this, when they try to tell me how much they care about me, how much they want to help me. I'd flown off the handle at our last rehearsal, when Mick suggested I go to rehab. I didn't need fucking _rehab_, I needed _Tommy_.

And _god_, that pain in my chest every time I think of him still won't go away, but I've gotten better at forcing it back down, forcing the memories away.

Me and Coulson were never close before, but he basically became my best friend after that night, all because he got me what I need to take the pain away, and he did it without question. I don't know where he got the smack, don't know how he was always so ready to shoot me up at a party, or my house, but there's nothing I wouldn't have done to keep him in my life every time he stuck a needle into my veins and made me forget how fucking lonely I was.

My habit’s only gotten worse, and I can tell Coulson's getting more and more apprehensive every time I ask him for a hit: As I kept using, I needed more and more to stop from losing myself to misery. He seemed to think that first night would snap me out of it, well jokes on him.

"Do you want to take a break, man?" I'm broken out of my daze by a voice, and when I look up, Vince is staring at me, that sad, guilty look on his face again. I want to fucking scream, tell him to stop looking at me like that, that this is all his fucking _fault_, but all I can do is mindlessly play my bass.

"_Whatever_." Mick sighs, and probably feeling ignored, rolls his eyes. My teeth clench: Are they just going out of their _way_ to piss me off today? Fuck this, fuck _them_, and fuck this new sound guy too, I'm going to get Coulson back to the house and try to drug myself to sleep because I do _not_ need this shit right now-

“_**Excuse me**_.”

The combination of the door slamming open and the voice makes us all jump, steadying ourselves for a confrontation, and my blood almost freezes in my veins, world practically going in slow motion when I see him.

Tom fucking _Zutaut_.

I can practically _hear_ my teeth grinding as I look at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since Tommy left, and I’m filled with a sudden, burning _hatred_ for this man that only grows when he opens his mouth to speak.

“What the hell do you want?” Mick interrupts him, can sense the tension in the room, and consciously or not, he’s moving in front of me, blocking Zutaut from my vision with his body.

“What do I _want_?” He sounds almost hysterical, arms waving like an absolute jackass as Mick crosses his arms and stares him down. “It’s been three months and you guys have made literally _no_ progress on this record! My boss has been up my ass and I’m starting to run out of excuses!”

“We’re working on it.” Coulson says, absentmindedly twirling his drumstick and cursing when he drops it, and his nonchalant attitude only seems to incense Zutaut more.

“Obviously not or you’d have something to show for it by now!”

“Man can you just fuck _off_ already?” It’s Vince this time, sounding absolutely _exhausted_ with his complaining, and for the first time in weeks I’m actually agreeing with him: If Zutaut doesn’t get the hell out of my sight soon I may do something I’ll regret.

“No, no I can’t! I don’t know if you guys can comprehend this, but you’re not only fucking up your careers, you’re fucking up _mine_. What have you been doing this whole time anyways? Seriously, what!? : Partying, drinking, shooting up?”

He stares at me over Mick’s shoulder and I clench my fists at the resentment in his eyes. “Running around with my _**boyfriend**_, maybe?”

It’s like all of the air in the studio is sucked out in a second, I can see Vince flinch out of the corner of my eye, but all I can feel is _rage_ simmering up inside of me.

“Now, don’t get me wrong.” He starts, and I can see the twisted smirk forming on his face. “Tommy was always a slut, but I didn’t think he’d go two out of four on a band I signed the second I left town.” I’m shaking now, I know it, and Mick reaches back to grab my wrist and keep me from moving forward. How dare this weaselly little fucker even _think_ about Tommy, much _less_ call him a slut?

“Zutaut.” Vince’s voice is low now, a tone I never hear unless he’s about to absolutely lose it. “I highly suggest you shut the _fuck_ up.”

But of course, Tom keeps talking.

“No need to get so defensive, Neil, word from the party says you already had him for all he was worth, no need to act like he’s anything other than a stupid, gold-digging _whore_-“

I’ve knocked Mick to the floor before I can even blink, storming across the room and smashing my fist into Zutaut’s face. I hear something break under my fist as he falls, and I don’t even hesitate in going down with him, fists swinging for all I’m worth.

It’s like I’m not even in control of my own body anymore, I’m somewhere on the roof watching Nikki Sixx kick Tom Zutaut’s ass. I feel arms come to pull me off of him, and the sickest feeling of irony hits me when I whirl around and _Vince_ is the one stopping my attack.

“He’s not worth it man!”

“Get the fuck off me!” I yell, yanking out of the blonde’s grasp. I can’t even think, seeing red as Mick kneels down to check on Zutaut. I want him fucking _dead_ for everything he did to Tommy, but as soon as I go to pummel him some more Coulson grabs me by my arm and starts pulling me out of the room entirely, ignoring my struggling. My flood of adrenaline has started to wear off and I feel so, _so_ weak as he pulls me down the hall.

_“Goddamn fucking bandslut causing all the trouble when he’s not even fucking **here**.” _He mutters under his breath, and the look I shoot him is absolutely _venomous_, venomous enough to make him snap his jaw shut before I can do it for him.

“You trying to end up like Zutaut?” Weak or not, he seems to realize how serious I am, shaking his head. I sigh when we reach the parking lot: Apparently we’d been in the studio longer than I’d thought, because it’s dark as fuck outside.

“I need a fucking hit, man.” My mind is running a mile a minute, Zutaut having wasted _no_ time digging up every painful memory of Tommy I’d tried to hard to bury with smack.

“_Now?_”

“If you don’t fucking mind.”

He shuffles in place, almost like he’s deciding whether or not to tell me something before he turns to look at me, face glowing oddly in the streetlights.

“I’ve got some in my car, I was going to save it for the party, and we’ve already shot up about 4 times today, but if you want it now...” he trails off, only serving to annoy me further. He has no fucking idea what I’m going through right now, and if I can’t get what I need from him, I’ll just have to get it somewhere else.

“If you’re going to be a bitch about it you can just fuck off.”

That seem to stir him, because he narrows his eyes at me and motions for me to follow him to his car. I’m relived once we get in, tension fading as he opens his glove compartment. That voice that’s always in the back of my head, the last rational thing about me, is telling me Coulson’s an idiot for keeping this shit in his car and that I’m equally stupid for letting him shoot me up in a parking lot, but I quickly shut it up; we’re in the back and it’s so late hardly anyone is here, we’re not going to get caught.

He prepares the rig as expertly as he always does, and I watch, enthralled, as the drug melts down.

“Alright man, give me a vein.” My arms have long since become useless, veins bruised and collapsed from overuse, and I lean forward and let him feel out a spot in my neck. He gives me a warning before the needle goes in, and I start to feel that familiar rush overtaking my body as I lean back into the passengers seat, eyes hooded as Coulson goes to take care of himself.

Something feels off about this high, my breathing feels so much slower than usual and I’m just so, so fucking tired. I just want to close my eyes and go to sleep.

Coulson’s shaking me, and I try to open my eyes but it’s just too damn hard, too much work for me to do when I’m this tired, but I can see the panic on his face as he continues to jostle me, hear his voice so far away even though he’s practically on top of me.

_“This isn’t fucking funny man, get the fuck up.”_

I don’t know what he’s so fucking worried about.

_“Don’t fucking do this to me Nikki, don’t fucking do this.”_

I’m just going to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry.


	26. XXVI-Rock bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets some news and experiences emotional whiplash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took forever and I still hate it lmao.

Tommy's POV

Some days waking up is like pulling teeth...today is one of those days.

I don't know why I'm so anxious, not sure why I have this nervous, clenching, _sick_ feeling in my gut that something is going to completely fuck up my night, but I woke up in a _mood_ and absolutely _nothing_ has been able to improve it... the snowball effect of bullshit and bad news I've faced all afternoon hasn't helped either.

Cherry had basically beaten down my door to wake me up after I missed my fourth alarm, excitedly telling me she'd decided to give Trevor a chance after all and go on a date with him. I'd congratulated and cooed and faked enthusiasm, all the while feeling like an absolute selfish _asshole_ because I couldn't even be happy that my _best friend _was going out with a man that actually _cared_ for her.

Truth be told, I was jealous: She was getting something I could never have, a chance at love, and god did I beat myself for even thinking _that_, because it opened up a whole new can of worms, reminded me of a time where I _had_ been in the perfect position to build a life with someone I loved and it hurt, but I wasn't about to take out my loneliness on her, just gently lied and told her I was hungover and needed to rest, feeling even worse when she, like an absolute angel, apologized and left with a soft smile and a 'Get well soon.'

I honestly don't even want to go out tonight, want to crawl back into bed and not move for _days_, but it's a Friday night and the club is always packed with bored businessmen, tourists, and drunks just waiting to spend their cash to see some pretty young thing take their clothes off, and I need all the money I can get if I'm ever going to get out of L.A.

I glance at the clock, 8:30, I'm due at work in another hour and a half. Fred's been talking about giving me more hours since I'm pretty popular with customers, and I honestly don't know how I feel about that.

_"Goddamn it." _I mutter under my breath, throwing open the insanely small closet to look for something to wear. I hope I'm not getting sick, but I'm going to ask for a few days off.

Not that strippers get vacation days or anything.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

"What's wrong T-Bone?" If Evan didn't look so genuinely concerned I'd bite his head off for even talking to me right now.

I’m sitting at my vanity, head down on the surface as our coworkers rush around the dressing room, a typical chaotic scene. Usually I’d enjoy the rush of getting ready, but I’ve been so miserable all day I can’t even find any enjoyment in getting ready, having already gotten dressed and put my makeup on in a robotic fashion.

“T?” Right. Evan wanted to know what was wrong with me. Well truth be told I couldn’t tell him because I didn’t fucking _know_. All I know is I want the night to be over and it’s barely even begun.

_“I have a headache.” _Not totally a lie, but not the root of my issues.

_“Awww, babe.”_ His sympathetic tone is cloying, desire to snap at him growing even though he’s not actually doing anything wrong. Jesus, what the fuck is going on in my head tonight?

“I have some aspirin in my car I can give you when we go on break, ok?” I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve my friends, but I vow in that moment to be as nice to Evan, Cherry, and even Trevor as possible.

_“Thank you.”_ If I sound like I’m going to cry, he doesn’t comment on it, just pats my back like I’m a small child and shoots off to take his place on the stage.

_‘Alright, Lee.’ _I think to myself, raising my head to look in the mirror._ ‘Just a few more hours and you can go home.’_

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Why is it that when you’re anticipating something, time seems to pass in slow motion? I feel like I’ve been dancing for hours, covered in dollars and staring into the lustful, leering faces of the crowd for an eternity. When the hell do I get my next break? When can I go _home_?

The music, some new English band Fred insisted on playing over and over faded away, and I almost sobbed in relief as I got signaled for my 15 minute reprieve.

The walk from the platform to the dressing room feels like escaping prison, and I’m so tired I don’t even notice that the remaining dancers are crowded around the shitty little TV we’d raised hell to get installed.

“Guys?” They’re being so quiet, all watching intently, whispering amongst themselves as they bunch around the electronic. “What’s going on?”

No response.

“Hello?”

Still nothing.

_“Jesus.” _I finally snap, irritation painting my tone. _“Who the hell died?”_

That seems to get the attention of one of them, a short brunette whose name I haven’t learned yet. He turns to me, face somber. “Nikki Sixx, man, that’s who.”

My heart drops, blood freezing in my veins. I heard him wrong. I had to have heard him wrong, because there’s no way he just said-

I stare, and he nods in confirmation. Oh god. I think I’m going to be _sick_.

I’m pushing my way through the crowd before I know it, ignoring their protests as I come to a dead stop in front of the TV, panic building in my chest as the reporter goes on. He can’t be dead, Nikki can’t be fucking _dead_.

_-Has died in Hollywood this evening of an apparent drug overdose._

And there it is. His picture flashing up on the screen, and a sob has torn its way out of my throat.

“Jesus man, are you ok?” I don’t even know who’s speaking, every voice and sound in the room feels miles away from me as I turn away from the TV. I need to get out, I can’t stand to be around anyone right now, and it’s like walking on broken glass as I push through the emergency exit connecting the dressing room to the alley outside.

I can’t fucking breath and my heart feels like it’s getting ripped out as I sink to the ground, chest heaving violently with my sobs. Nikki’s gone, he’s _dead_. I never even got to say goodbye, never even got to tell him that I _loved_ him. It’s like I went to sleep yesterday and woke up in a nightmare, he’s gone and it’s all my fault. I left him because I thought I would _ruin_ his life, now it looks like I _**ended**_ it instead. If I had just been there maybe I could have-

_“Tommy? Christ man what happened to you?”_ I can hear Evans voice as he sinks down next to me, and he gasps softly when I raise my head to look at him; I know I look awful because I sure fucking feel it. No- awful isn’t even the word I’d use, more like _hopeless_. I’d left Nikki and it _hurt_, but I’d comforted myself in knowing he’d be happier without me. Now he was dead, and I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to go on living in a world without him.

“_Nikki_-“ I cant even say it. I don’t want to say it.

“Oh,babe.” Evan’s tone is soft. “I didn’t know you were a fan” If I wasn’t so close to bursting into tears again I could almost laugh. This wasn’t the sadness of a fan that had lost their idol, this was the _despair_ of a man that had lost the one person he’d ever loved, and I’m near hysteria as he tries to calm me down.

He runs a comforting hand through my hair, still calm as I choke out another round of sobs. “T, they revived him in the ambulance. Mötley Crüe isn’t over yet.”

“_W-What?_” My voice is wavering, but I don’t dare give myself hope in case this is some sick joke.

“Yea. Paparazzi vultures on the scene said he took two shots of adrenaline straight to the chest. I kind of wish I could have seen it, I bet it was like a movie.”

Oh my god.

He’s alive. Nikki is _alive_. It’s like I can breathe again, knife out of my gut. But there’s something I need to do before I can feel truly at peace.

“Evan.” I manage to speak out after a while, wiping my eyes and probably smearing mascara all over the place. “Can you drive me to the hospital?”

“Are you ok?” He sounds worried, and though I appreciate it, I have to do this.

“I’ll pay you back for any money you miss out on- and don’t forget I covered for you last week.” Is it cheap? Yes. Do I care right now? No. Nikki is alive, but I need to see him for myself. Even if he’s pissed at me for leaving, even if he never wants to talk to me again, I need to see him _breathing_.

“...Fine. But we’re even after this.”

I just hope he doesn’t hate me now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be another dual POV and you know how I feel about those.


	27. XXVII-Back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...this chapter has given me more trouble than anything I’ve ever written and that’s EXACTLY why it took so long. I’m not happy with it at all but I can’t keep deleting it and rewriting it.

Tommy's POV

I've _never_ liked hospitals, never liked their cold tiles and pristine walls, or the sharp smell of disinfectant and antiseptics. They’re so unbelievably _sterile_ they make me uneasy, so silent and solemn, hiding sickness and misery behind every door. I can’t imagine someone as lively and vibrant as _Nikki_ stuck in a place like this.

_‘But you’re the one that put him here.’ _That voice from months ago is back, cruel and mocking even as Evan squeezes my hand in comfort when he feels me tense up. I’m so nervous, thoughts in my head filling me with a sense of foreboding: What if Nikki doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me for leaving him? For almost _killing_ him? I was so determined in the alley but every ounce of bravado I had is draining out of me and I want to do what I always do when things get too heavy- run.

But I cant, I just _can’t_, I need to see him alive.

The waiting room is packed, and I can’t help but feel paranoid that people are staring at me: We hadn’t had time to fully change, and me and Evan are both covered in makeup, jackets thrown on overour day clothes. He doesn’t seem phased at all, and not for the first time, I wish I had his confidence.

“You ok, T?” He asks again, brows furrowed in concern. “You look like you’re going to pass out.” I feel like it too, the nails of my free hand digging into my palm hard enough to leave crescent shaped cuts, and it hits me suddenly that I have absolutely no _way_ to see Nikki. I’m not his spouse or even his friend anymore, I could always bribe a nurse to let me in, but that would make me no better than the paparazzi vultures we’d seen when we were driving up to the hospital.

“Not even a little bit.” It’s murmured under my breath as I consider my options. I could always make a run for past the waiting room, throw open every room door I can in hopes of seeing Nikki. It’d get me tossed out on my ass and probably arrested, but even a glimpse of him would be worth it.

“You seriously look sick Tommy, maybe we should get you looked at before you-“

“_Tommy_?” He’s interrupted by a voice begun us, tone absolutely incredulous, and I recognize it instantly, fear clenching my gut as we whirl around to see Vince staring in shock, Mick at his side with a more muted expression of disbelief. He stares for a while longer before he’s moving towards us, shocked expression fading into something unreadable. Oh god, I should have known this was a bad idea. He’s going to hate me for almost killing their friend, he’s probably just going to kick my ass right here.

I close my eyes, expecting a punch I’d completely deserve, but instead arms are wrapped around my waist and I’m being lifted halfway off the ground.

What the _**fuck**_?

“_Thank god you came back!_” Vince sounds absolutely ecstatic, and I’ve never been more disoriented in my entire life. “You just disappeared! Oh god, he’s going to be so happy to see you, you have no idea.”

“Put him down, Neil.” Mick’s found his way to us, and I’m shocked at how calm he looks all things considered, but the telltale puffiness of his eyes gives him away. “The kid looks like he’s about to faint.” I’m so lost, so utterly confused. Why aren’t they screaming at me? Telling me to stay away from Nikki? Evan, seeming to gather this is a personal affair, moves back from us, mumbling something about finding a vending machine with a star struck look in his eyes, and I desperately wish he would stay: I need support right now.

“I’m lost.” I finally manage after a few more moments of staring like a slack jawed fool, and Mick’s eyes soften as he looks at me.

“He was depressed as hell when you left, Tommy, he thought you didn’t love him any more and it was eating him up inside. The fact that you came is going to be major for him.”

The idea of me not loving Nikki is comical, but the vocal confirmation from Mick that I’d had a part in his overdose almost broke me down into tears again, and my misery must have been obvious because Vince speaks up. “All that shit that happened before? It doesn’t matter anymore, all that matters is you and him sorting things out, because honestly, I think you’re the only person who will be able to drag him out of rock bottom.”

“I don’t know if I can. He might not want to see me after-" My voice breaks, and I can feel the tears starting again. God, this is all so much.

“He adores you Tommy, I know it, Mick knows it. The second he lays eyes on you, I guarantee he’s going to try and jump out of that hospital bed.”

“Do you think so?” God, I sound pathetic.

“I’ll go find a nurse and you can see for yourself.”

I’m still nervous, because who wouldn’t be? But I have to do this: Not just for him, but for myself. If this truly is the last time we ever see each other, we deserve some form of closure in our relationship so we can properly move on.

I don’t think I’d be able to move on though, not from him.

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧

Nikki’s POV

Everything fucking hurts.

I’ve been in pain before, both physically and mentally, but this may just be in the upper echelon of misery: My body isn’t just hurt, it’s _wrecked_.

The physical pain means nothing to me though, nothing next to the horrifying reality that I had _died_ in that parking lot, if the paramedics hadn’t shot that adrenaline into my heart I’d be in the _morgue_ instead of the emergency room. Vince and Mick would be planning my funeral since they’d be the only people to actually give a damn, and Tommy, wherever he is, would lament the fact that he’d wasted so much precious time on a man that turned out to be a worthless junkie.

God, thinking of Tommy sober, especially after _this_ feels like getting stabbed in the gut: For the first time since he left I’m _glad_ he’s gone, _glad_ he didn’t see me hit rock bottom. He’d be so fucking _disappointed_ in me, disgusted that I’d let myself fall so low, and I close my eyes as I imagine him berating me for being such a fuck-up. God, even after all this time I can hear his voice, so clear in my head, an endless stream of ‘_Nikki...Nikki..._’

“_Nikki?_” Jesus. That sounded close as hell.

“_Nikki?_” Is this what sobriety is going to be like? Tommy’s voice in my head mocking me every second of every day? Because I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to handle that.

“_Nikki, can you **please** look at me?_” Ok now that was just fucking weird, weird enough to make me crack my eyes open, and my heart almost stops again when I see a blurry glimpse of the figure at my door. It can’t be him. It just _can’t_ be, I must be hallucinating or something, because there’s no way Tommy is actually _here_.

“Oh god.” I murmur, almost delirious as I try and blink. “I must have actually died.” But no, the Tommy-shaped mirage is moving towards my hospital bed, teeth sinking into his lower lip like I vividly remember. If this is the afterlife I don’t mind it at all, an eternity staring at the man I love? I would have tried to die earlier if I knew this was in the cards.

“You’re not dead Nikki, I’m here.” And he pokes me in the arm as if to prove it.

_No. Fucking. Way._

I can practically hear my heart beating as we stare at each other in silence. I can’t even believe this is happening, it’s all too good to be true, but when I reach out and grab his wrist, it’s real: His skin is warm and he’s not a vision and he’s actually here.

“I- I’m _so_ sorry I did this to you Nikki.” I can barely hear his words over my own thoughts, every syllable that passes from his lips further proof I’m not imagining him again. “I only left because I thought it would be best for you, I _never_ meant for this to happen. I’ll understand if you hate me but I just had to make sure-“

I’ve pulled him down before he can even say another word, pressing my lips to his in absolute desperation. Kissing Tommy again is like opening the gates of heaven, and I can feel the tension fading from his body as he gently curls his fingers into my hair, only pulling back when the two of us need to breathe.

“You really came back.” I sound shocked to my own ears, but inside I’m jumping for joy. He’s back, my baby is back and I’m never letting him go again.Nothing else matters to me right now; not the party, not him leaving, not even smack- nothing is more important to me than making sure I never lose Tommy again. “Will you stay with me?” I know it’s a loaded question, but I have to hear his answer before I can get any rest.

“For as long as you want me to.” I already know I want him to stay forever. We have a lot to talk about , I know it and so does he, but now’s not the time, not when we just found each other again. I tug him into the hospital bed with me, feeling at peace for the first time in weeks as he lays his head on my chest and curls into my side, the stress of the night finally catching up with us both.

It’s the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in months, and for the first time since I woke up to an empty house, I actually want to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was trash lmao.
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr at devil-shouted.tumblr.com


	28. XXVIII-Nobody said it would be easy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up together in the hospital, Tommy and Nikki try to work on one of their many, many problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...SO! Holy shit this took forever. Life has just been so fucking hectic lately but I swear to god it will never take me literal months to upload a chapter again. And Jesus I’m sorry I’m advance that this is what y'all are getting for your patience, because this is honest to god the worst chapter I think I’ve ever written. Part of the reason it took so long was I was just not satisfied with anything I was writing, so I was in a constant state of editing and deleting and rewriting, and now I’ve ended up with something I’m not wholly satisfied with but will hopefully wrap up some lose ends from the last chapter and hold you guys over until the next. I can’t say when I’ll update again but it won’t take a damn eternity next time.

Tommy's POV

To no one's surprise, Nikki wants to check himself out of the hospital as soon as we wake up the next morning.

He'd woken up before me (as always), and proceeded to gently pull me out of my sleep by pressing gentle kisses all over my face and lips, a small smile crossing his face when he saw me blinking up at him in his arms.

I don't think I'll ever be able to find the words to convey how utterly _relieved_ I was in that moment: Relieved that he was alive, that I was there with him, that last night hadn't been a dream. The negative, horrible circumstances that led to our reunion aside, I was completely at peace for the first time in months.

...A peace that quickly ended when Nikki shuffled me in his arms, placed one last kiss on my forehead and said "Babe, I need to get the _fuck_ out of here."

It was like a record scratch on vinyl- a completely jarring mood-killer, and I'd shot up in the hospital bed so fast I almost knocked us both out of it, eyes wide with shock and concern as I shot back a "No the _fuck_ you don't." I love Nikki, I've accepted that fact now. If he'll have me, I want to spend the rest of my life with him- but I also think he's completely fucking _insane_, because there's no way he honestly thinks going straight back to his house alone after he just fucking _died_ is a good idea. "Seriously Nikki? You _literally died_ yesterday, you need to stay here, or go to rehab-"

"I'm _not_ going to rehab."

"_**Why!?**_" I can't help the panic that creeps into my voice at the finality in his. I knew addiction wasn't something that could be solved overnight, but his abject refusal to get any sort of help was freaking me the hell out.

"It's just not happening." He looks so resolute, so set in his decision that I almost want to scream. I'm no expert, not by a long shot, but I know a little about addiction, and I know damn well that he's not going to be able to detox properly sitting at his house. He'll need doctors, medicine, and god, I honestly don't think _I'm_ the anchor he needs here, especially considering this whole situation was _my_ fault in the first place.

"Seriously Nikki, we need to find some way for you to-"

"I just got you back. I'm _not_ about to ship myself off and lose you again."

And that, _that_ was something else entirely, something I didn't expect, and as angry and panicked as I was, the words sent a feeling of warmth and love through me that I had to shake myself out of in order to center myself again and tell Nikki that he needed to get help.

"_Nikki_." And that's just great, my voice is cracking. I am so damn _tired_ of crying all the time but I just can't help it now, so much has happened and even though Nikki is sitting right in front of me, alive and eyeing me with more pure _passion_ than I've ever seen, I can feel the tears stinging my eyes. I'm worried about him, straight up fucking _terrified_ because I don't know what the hell to do. I know Nikki, he's stubborn as hell and if he's telling me he doesn't want to go to rehab then I won't be able to make him go no matter how much I beg, but I just can't leave him alone while he goes through withdrawals. Just the idea of heading back to my motel room while he sits alone in that giant house of his, sweating out the drugs and in pain has my stomach clenching.

"Nikki, _please_. If you're not going to go to rehab then what the _fuck_ are you going to do? Who's going to check on you to make sure you're ok? To keep you from relapsing? Mick and Vince, as much as they love you, have lives of their own and won't be able to monitor you 24/7. And fuck's sake Nikki, as great as I think he is, Vince parties more than anyone I've ever met, how is he going to keep you on the straight and narrow when he can't even do it for _himself_!"

I don't mean to raise my voice, honestly I don't, but I'm just so fucking stressed right now, just full of worry for Nikki, and him sitting silently, staring at me through his bangs like he's waiting for me to be done isn't really helping my anxiety. I feel awful in that moment, absolutely kicking myself for yelling at a man who'd literally just come back from the dead, and I take a deep breath, ready to apologize when he raises a hand. I flinch, I can't help it honestly, to used to living with Zutaut not to be on guard all the time, but Nikki doesn't falter, running a thumb under my eye to wipe away a tear I hadn't even noticed. Apparently I'd started crying sometime during my rant

"Nikki-"

"Come stay with me."

It takes my breath away, honestly, the tone in his voice, the look in his eyes when he says that. He says it like it's the only logical conclusion, that it's just a fact of life that I should be living with him, and the way he says it is like- it's like I'm the most important thing in the _world_ to him.

"_Oh my god_-" I don't even know what to say, totally thrown by everything going on, but Nikki's just reaching out to squeeze my hand and it strikes me as ridiculous that _he's_ comforting me right now.

"I don't want you to feel obligated, that's the _last_ fucking thing I want , but, god baby I was so fucking scared when I woke up and couldn’t find you. I thought I’d fucked up and scared you off and when I went to your apartment and you weren’t there it fucking _broke_ me, I spent every day praying that you were somewhere safe whenever I wasn’t too strung out to think. I already said you don’t owe me a damn thing but please, just for a few days at least so I know you’re ok.”

If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times, but the intensity, the honesty of Nikki’s feelings for me just amaze me sometimes. I still can’t believe I’m worth anything to this man but he just keeps trying to reassure me how much I mean to him, and as callous as it may be, I’m going to have to use it to my advantage for his own good.

“I’ll stay- on _one_ condition.”

“_Anything_.” Jesus, he’s so earnest when he says that. I can tell by the tone of his voice he’d do anything I asked him to do. I bet he’d even quit the band if I begged hard enough, and that sort of power and influence is more than a little frightening.

“I want you hire some kind of doctor.”

“Wha-“

“And attend some kind of support group.” Nikki’s about to argue, I can see that stubborn slant in his eyes but I don’t even give him the chance, leveling him with a glare of my own and poking a finger into his chest. “You don’t want to go to rehab? _Fine_. But I’m _not_ staying with you if I’m going to have to worry myself sick over you relapsing. I want you to find a doctor that can help us with the withdrawal process and I want you to get somewhere where you can talk about this, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t see like the type that would appreciate traditional therapy.”

He keeps his mouth shut. Of course I’m right, I know Nikki like I know myself at this point, and I can’t help but feel smug when I settle back into his arms as he sighs in defeat. This isn’t going to be easy, I’m not even going to delude myself into thinking that, but hopefully my little demands will be a good step into getting Nikki clean and healthy, and honestly, that’s all I want right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. 🤢


End file.
